So... November's almost here which means... NaNoWriMo! Sorry I haven't posted. Been having a rough time recently. This poetry blog will temporarily become an outlet for my frustrations during NaNo. Starting with the fact that I have eight days left, and four chapters (mostly) outlined. Why is outlining so hard? I've got this story all in my head, and trying to pin down specifics is like pulling teeth! I'll try and start poetry blogging again, but it probably wont be daily till December.

Red

Red...
is the pain that Blue leaves behind,
is the fire of anger that blasts through,
is a smell of ammonia and smoke,
is a bitter; tart taste,
is an all-consuming color,
are the wounds on and within a body,
is something that leeches away strength,
will fade but never leave hiding parts of itself
     in unsuspecting places,
is a percentage of me.

Blue

Blue...
is knowing hopes fall through the cracks,
is desolation of a cracked family,
is a soothing smell with a sour edge,
is a numbing thickening of the tongue,
is a moment lost while there was still hope in the mind,
is a body feeling too heavy to move,
is cousin to Purple,
is me waking up.

Opposite

The harder you push me up,
the further I fall.
The stronger my grip,
the weaker the hold.
I'm always an opposite,
what works for others,
never works for me.

Falling

Screaming through the air,
without sound,
down I go,
dazed and lost.

How did I go off that cliff,
built, layer by layer,
full of vigor.
and hopes.

The higher you go,
the faster you run,
from the bottom,
the longer,
more deadly,
the fall.

S.D.  (Original 10/4/11)

Upside-down

Looking around,
waiting,
wondering,
how did she reach this place?
This place of upside downs,
    and inside outs?
Water destroys and fire cleanses,
she entered through a window and opened a door.

She's looking at all the people,
smiling,
laughing.
She used to laugh, too.
Some still pass stories down about it.

Now she's lost wondering why,
when she tries to laugh she can't breathe,
when she tries to smile her face becomes numb,
when she tries to reach her arm gets burned.

Cool and Heat

Air flows over me,
Slightly feverish heat,
goosebumps travel up my arms,
baking from the outside in,
and around my neck.
tingling on my epidermis.


Hair blows lightly,
Dogs pant wetly,
tickling the back of the neck.
eyes searching for water.


S.D (Original 10/2/11)

Cautionless

You didn't bother,
to be cautious.
You charged ahead,
without thinking of the future.
You lept,
without taking the time to look.

Now you find yourself,
alone.
Such a strange place,
full of nightmares,
and dreams.

You fight,
back to the place you belong.
You wander,
searching for a way home.
You hope,
home is still there.

Many days and nights,
spent searching.
Until you find that passage,
the decision to walk through or not.
When you decide,
that day will be marked.
No one can see your mind,
leaving you peace,
to decide.

S.D. (original 10/1/11)

New Project

So it's been awhile... no postings.  Well, I've decided to start a new project here that will (hopefully) force me to get used to posting more often.  It's a poetry version of the 365 project.

A 365 project is mostly associated with photography, where you take a picture a day in order to open up to the possibilities around you... light, color, perspective, etc.  I'll be doing the same thing only with poetry.  I'll be writing (and posting) a poem a day.  Most are probably not going to be very good, some will be silly, some serious, some dark, and some (maybe many) from nature.  This will hopefully open me up to new descriptions and perspectives when it comes to both emotions and the natural world.

I may double post, the second post will most likely be something old though.  I'll start this Oct 1, 2011.

We'll see how it goes.

Rain (IP)

These glass drops that fall,
shatter then reform,
searching for like terms,
comrades in arms,
the goal to reconnect.

They're spotted,
sometimes rarely,
sometimes causing havoc,
always looking for one another.

Perfect Plan

How many funerals can a week hold?
The mass grave of a millennium.
Crying, weeping, sobbing,
     feel you've lost everything.
He's gone,
     she's heartbroken,
     all she wants is to,
     sleep.
She's gone,
      mentally locked in his room,
      going through the pictures.

The crowd of sorrow,
     parted naturally.
These cry out,
    look for something,
    anything,
    why does this hurt?
If truly perfected, planned, wanted,
     why does this hurt?
If this is the same since time,
     why does this hurt?
Left in confusion,
     many heartbroke,
     wander,
     lost.
Others lie,
     confuse with words,
     and deeds,
     false sympathy.

That shiny and bright thing,
     that glows,
     and beams touch my skin.
A vaguely familiar thing,
     at first I fear it burns.
Instead, I face it,
     drink it in,
     changing from threat to friend,
     now a fire burns within me,
     motivating me.
Is this it then?
This is the perfected plan?
I look as others still lay,
     heartbroke,
     lost.
Who'll tell these?

S.D. (poem 11/9/11; picture June, 11)  Original

Kiersey Temperament Sorter

INFP - Questor  (Idealist grouping Kiersey Temperament Sorter)

INFPs are idealistic, self-sacrificing, and somewhat cool or reserved. They are very family and home oriented, and have a high capacity for caring. High sense of honor derived from internal values. 1% of the total population.INFP's feel internal turmoil when they find themselves in situations in which there is conflict between their inner code of ethics and their relationships with others. They feel caught between pleasing others and maintaining their own integrity. Their natural tendency to identify with others, compounded with their self-sacrificial dispositions, tends to leave them confused as to who they really are. Their quiet personalities further feeds their feelings of depersonalization. The INFP's quest for self-identity then seems even more alluring — but increasingly impossible to attain. As with all NFs, the INFP will feel lost and perplexed at stressful times. As stress builds, INFP's become disconnected from their own personality and perceived place in life. They will lose sight of who they are in relation to time and place. They may not make basic observations, while instead they will focus on the more abstract and symbolic meanings of a particular interaction. This can sometimes baffle those who expect more direct communication and a fairly concrete relationship. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ One of the most accurate personality tests I've found out there; this is of course not the exact same explanation, but very accurate.

Virtual Light

Breezes work through threads,

in loose clothing.

One lonely drop falls,

cooling a patch of sun-dried skin.

Flowers hum, so electrified,

a hit of sudden unexpected storm.

Sudden screeching and a crash,

the heavens sob from stress.

Taking refuge in a four-walled void,

you shiver, shake.

All this unexpected violence,

and you are unprepareadly lost.

Suddenly a phantasm, a being,

free as air, then it disappears.

Your brain stops.

Your heart runs at a bolder rhythm.

"Go and search" is a whisper

known within your depths.

You search out this energy,

can it tell you where the sun's hid?

You trip going down the brackish room,

the dimensions getting smaller.

For every singular breath,

there's a low answering shake.

Hands flailing for balance,

that's gone with the sun.

Mind once again buzzing

with doubt now focused.

find the nymph.

Finding yourself in a large cavern,

suddenly illuminated.

Thousands of glowing specters,

taunting with hope,

confusing, camouflaging.

Fight your way around,

through the incandescent groups.

Through cruel mind manipulations,

hope fade as more phantoms appear,

growing brighter.

S.D.  (Fall 2009)  Original

Dividing

     The feelings
built a wall.
     Divisionary
emotional assets.
     Sub-conscious permission only
for the great divide.
     Life split into
before and after.
     Set regulations
loose emotions left.

S.D. (17.March.2010)  Original

Rainbow Body

     The swirling of colors,

shows voalitilty within.

Bruising purple for

aching deep in the redirected red rose heart that beats

for life and experience.

Solem blue, depth

of an abyss always searching

for the opposing eggy yellow for sustence physically

and emotionally.

      The total absence of light

a deeper black that is

hidden within all sentients.

Balanced in most with the glimmering pure white

reflecting all colors away

from this sacred space.

Orange pink swirls around

dances, spins, twirls creating for themselves

a link to what some would call mischeviously insane

actions.

      In-between this absence and

reflection lives the solid,

foggy grey. It is the ego,

the balance, dependable

justice. Whispering judgement

called up through the

tender stomach to the

stendrils of the low brain

of all colors and parts the

unconcious calculated effect

that causes.

     

     Rusty brown sicknesses

force a living body into

a state of electrochemical

suspension, then tiny warriors

take on the attack pushing

away the brown invasion.

S.D. (poem 2009; picture 2011) Original

Transformation

      This was part of a kid's short story I'd written when I was little, going over old writings I thought it'd be better as a poem.  Still thinking about adding, though.

     Lu looked up,
and saw the sky sobbing blue.
     Really how could it
get that hue?
     She wanted badly,
to fly away.
     She became a butterfly,
and flew all day.
     She rested on a limb,
brown and hard.
     She became so tired,
so she changed back to a worm.
     Laid out on the limb,
warming from all sides.

S.D. 1990's  (original)

It's Here & Now

If you see it,
If you smell it,
If you feel it,
If you hear it,
How can it not be there?

If you see it,
ribs showing,
scar littered bodies,
water, earth, fire start a war,
children, no parents,
eyes with pain,

If you smell it,
tang of blood,
squalor and feces,
decay of idealized hopes,
lungs full of ashes,
bodies rotting.

If you feel it,
earth rumbling,
people losing faith,
bonds of love shattered, torn,
some lost in their minds,
bodies rebelling,

If you can hear it,
winds whistling,
screaming, crying,
houses of peace gone,
words of fear, hate,
muzzle blasts,

How can it not be there,
some losing, some gaining,
the end of the end,
facing truth,
stuck, no denials left,
the ultimate second chance.

S.D. (poem 27.8.2011; picture 2011) Original

Live and Learn

     She never knew a heart
could break,
easily,
quickly,
cruelly,
Shattered like ice after a 100 foot drop.

     Or the world that could
turn on her,
suddenly,
insensibly,
painfully,
The pop of a limb being dislocated.

     Or the haughty looks of those
formerly known,
rudely,
mortally,
awkwardly,
Embarrassment of the world who saw her defeated.

     Or the acidic empathy of self-contempt,
morbidly,
sadly,
silently,
The lethargy of being burned alive while paralyzed.

     Or the confusion of muggy, foggy
half-memories and feelings,
fiercely,
violently,
suspiciously,
Played out like the greatest debate of fact and myth.

     Or the attempt back to happiness,
failing worse with each attempt,
wearily,
weakly,
insanely,
Like slogging through slush that sucks at your shoes.

     Or did she know all this?
loosely,
fleetingly,
wryly,
Through the dimming light of eyes, slumping of heads.

     Warnings were there, come and gone,
slowly,
momentarily,
archly,
She never saw the illness through the symptoms.

     Trying to soothe the pain always,
naively,
eerily,
grimly,
Ignorant of the cause.

S.D. 2009 (original)