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.

One of my Earliest Poems

     I just found this again- written when I was about 14 or 15.

Not In Love

Maybe I don't want to love but really do.
Maybe I was never meant to.
Maybe I just want to prove I can.
I've never been in love before.
I'm not in love with you.

My First Attempt at an ABC Poem

    When I first decided to stretch myself, I read about different forms and styles of poetry. The idea of an ABC poem seemed very daunting but I decided to test myself by attempting to write a whole poem using the entire alphabet. It came out very interesting and raw, if not a little rough. I was so proud of myself for doing it and making some kind of sense that I decided to share it on here.

Fear/Futility

And I stood upon a hill.
Below me live the other people-
caring not about each other or me.
Daring to flaunt it with no shame.
Erring over and over as it were a joy-
forgiving only for display.
Greeting with a smile and hug-
holding a knife in their hand.

I may be this too - could I escape?
Just a different slant on the same act.
Kneeling to look at them, I see not myself.
Leaning over - I may fall - would it matter?
Maybe I wouldn't be alone;
no more standing here looking down, around and up.
Only I know I'd be even lonelier with them,
pretending to care - leading me on.

Quixotic struggle of love versus hate,
roaring loud so no one can learn better,
screaming, deafening, that's all you can hear.
Tomorrow is our only hope - but what will change?
Unless one person changes, tomorrow never will.
Valor must reemerge - do any have it?
Where might it be in the heart of so-called men?
Xenolithic ones masquerading as each other,
yearning for something more - never finding.
Zealots cursing themselves to damnation - knowing no other way. 

      Here is another I've written...

Those Darn Stars

Reach out, touch me.
I'm not so far away,
Though I'm on this screen
And much larger than life.

Have you thought how I feel,
All alone in a glory of silver-
Yearning like you all?
Why do you look up to me?
Oh, if I could believe it too!
Rita, you're a lovely girl,
Trying to find affection,
Hoping the stars will shine on you.

     This one is in my book Light, Dark and Hope, shown below. 

Master Work

    After putting together Light, Dark and Hope, I found myself writing like someone had fired the starting gun. This was the first poem that seems fit for sharing.

Master Work

Put together all wrong

though no green palette,

thready scars or ugly bolts

reveal the nasty talent.

Somehow I'm still wrong.

Somehow they still know.

Perhaps my limbs are stiff.

Perhaps my words are slow.

Light, Dark and Hope

     By the time I had amassed quite a collection of poems, I realized that I had many recurring themes in my work. And after I began to write happier poems, I saw that a plot line could be formed from piecing many of my poems together. This was the impetus for the creation of my book, Light, Dark and Hope.

http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/lara4444

    The purpose of this book is to share with others my emotions and my journey. I consider it an amateur work, but it is, I think, a very interesting compilation. It shows how during more than a 10 year period, a person thinks of things so similarly and how this is reflected in their art without their planning it or knowing it. I also hope that it is an inspiring book because it so intensely delves into each step of the journey.

Here are some the poems in this book:

This is the first:
The Child

I thought I would be great.

How could I not?

I thought I could fly;

dreaming and not knowing. 

The New Forgotten

O' poor misshapen flower

with petals too many or too few.

None want a flower in a vase

with that dingy orange hue.

No one wants an ugly flower,

so I'll pick you for my vase-

a kind deed for an ugly thing

you who none will give a place.

I went to pick another flower,

saw many perfect and pretty,

but thought many will pluck them,

so I picked one I pitied.

One day when gathering flowers,

strolled through a field of brown

and saw all the pretty flowers

I'd left alone to frown.

Threshold

Naked, beaten and empty handed,

I stand reaching, pleading.

Always wanting to be older,

a plan so serious, misbegotten.

On a plateau of pain and waste,

looking on the chasm of rear view futures,

I plead with my heart and fate

"reach for the stars" lest chasm's fate I'll take.

It is available as an ebook for only $1.25 and a paperback copy is available for $9.99

http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/lara4444

   

The Beginning

    I started writing poetry in my early teen years to write about boys and about things that were bothering me. Until a few years ago I pretty much only wrote when I was upset and could find no other release. I wasn't very impressed with my poetic efforts at that time. I hit a patch in my life with plenty of darkness to inspire me to write and this rash of creativity motivated me to try to do more. I began to stretch myself, to learn more about poetry on a more serious level and even to attempt happier subject matter. Some of my poems were deeply moving to me and I felt that others would probably feel the same way so I decided to share them. Perhaps other people who feel the same can find out that they are not alone, as that is a feeling that has haunted me all of my life.