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