Exercise

    I'm on page four of a project Practice of Poetry has me working on... every day for ten days I'm supposed to give myself a certain amount of time or a given space on the page to write until and I have to write continuously about anything that comes to my mind. I've heard of something similar before but never tried it. Kinda scary really, but it's turning out well and not nearly as scary as I thought. It is definitely an interesting experiment.

Practice of Poetry

    For my birthday, I wanted a book to help me hone my skills and I picked The Practice of Poetry by Robin Behn and Chase Twichell. It contains writing exercises from poetry teachers. So far it's very interesting and not for the faint of heart. hehe well not that bad... It does very much pick your brain though but that's the good part. It is turning out to be what it is supposed to be, a very good exercise for my heart and mind. Anyone interested should definitely pick up this book. :)

Clown Tears

    I wrote this yesterday(technically the 12th).

Clown Tears

A frown once appeared
where none had dared to be-
on the face most dear.

I tucked my hair ‘neath
a fluffy colored wig,
slipped on big red feet,
and wore a silly grin.

I drove a tiny,
crowded car around you,
walked tight wires, many,
e’en rode a unicycle.

All in hope, a smile
I’d see. Then pranced a dog,
just groomed, and you smiled.

Thirst

    A poem I wrote a few weeks ago, inspired by a squirrel on my front porch. :)

Thirst

I crave a drop of life
to drink and feel alive.
O’ sweet little squirrel
sashay your tail my way.
Bat your lovely brown eyes
at vicarious me.


I crave a drop of life
to drink and feel alive.
You, tall, dark and handsome,
give a bright glance my way
though you don’t belong to
li’l’ vicarious me.


I crave a drop of life
to drink and feel alive.
Baby, smile so sweetly,
sound a soft laugh my way.
Let me feel endless hope.
O’ vicarious me!

Gilded Cage with an Open Door

Is there a Forest Outside these Trees?

      This poem is one I wrote in the last couple of months. It is not questioning the existence of God or a god, as it may sound, but more asking why?

Is there a Forest Outside these Trees?

Among the trees,
I heard crying
and, found in leaves,
my friend bleeding.

In mottled light,
I held them close
and mustered might
‘til it was a healthy dose.

Crowded in oaks,
I bandaged and raised
and, in branches’ cloaks,
toiled on and prayed.

In the shade,
I watched the pain
and begged for aid-
but do I wait in vain?

More Poems Pre-Light, Dark and Hope

     These poems do not appear in my book because they didn't really have a place in the plot line.

Don't Need a Gun

Don't need a gun.
No, you shot yourself
in the head long ago
and kept on going.


You waste away your time,
wait away your dreams
and play away your loves.
Nothing has a meaning in your life.


Don't need a gun.
No, you shot yourself
in the head a long time ago
and kept on going.


What do you do
in your time alone?
Twiddle your thumbs
and wait for the next day?


Don't need a gun.
You shot yourself
in the head long ago
and kept on going.


Have you had any dreams?
No one knows and no one cares.
All you need is money,
looks and sex to make you happy.


Don't need a gun.
No, you shot yourself
in the head a long time ago
and kept on going.


Who do you love?
Not the one you live with
and not the one you don't.
You drove them all away with lies.


Don't need a gun.
No, you shot yourself
in the head long ago
and kept on going.


Does it mean anything
when someone is kind?
Would you know it
if you saw it?

Battle of Hurt and Yearning

Afraid.


Yet my heart,
my body,
my eyes,
push me on.


I'm disappointed,
weary too,
but most
of all.


I'm lonely.