Setting Fire– Poetry Place

Happy Poetry Place day!!

So this one is a little different today, it’s actually a short story made up of haikus. I wanted to return to haikus for a little bit since they are surprisingly versatile and I also wanted to try to tell a story… Plus, California is on fire so that’s partially what I started off writing about before spinning it into a metaphor for something else. SO without further ado, here’s what I’ve got for you and I hope that you like it. Please do let me know what you think.


Setting Fire

Your meandering
smiles haunted me for a while,
and then you were gone.

But a fire lit
with a match to my mind and
now it won’t go out.

With all my eggs in
one basket…so what happens
if that basket breaks?

If the seams pull tight
and the hope breaks right down the
center, it must mend

with time we don’t have
and care we cannot give you.
There’s only one way

through, from something that
burns you from the inside out,
everything’s on fire.

dave-michuda-54058-unsplash

Photo by Dave Michuda on Unsplash

And one day you hope
to wake up and find out that
somehow the fire’s been

put out. So when the
morning comes and the sun sings
to you, just maybe

you can breathe in the
air, among the ash and the
past, you find a hope

that maybe this time
that basket finally held
and that fire burned

paul-wong-465234-unsplash.jpg

Photo by Paul Wong on Unsplash

itself out. Welcome
to today: the first day of the rest
the rest of your life.


I know it needs work but that’s what writing is all about after all, the editing process. So if you have any suggestions or a quick comment, let me know! And I will see you on Friday.

Old Fashioned Love– Poetry

jez-timms-4728-unsplash.jpg

Photo by Jez Timms on Unsplash

Here’s a little poetry for your Tuesday, inspired by the older poetry I’ve been studying in class. It’s interesting to realize that most writing was about religion back then, the faith and the hope people put into a power beyond them just to get through their days and their lives. Fascinating really.

But, enough of that, my point with telling you that is to explain how I modeled these poems. Each is a love poem, written in a way someone would about their own faith. So check them out and let me know what you think.

Without further ado, Poetry Place.

One

Tell me of our navel’s gaze

erda-estremera-572432-unsplash

Photo by Erda Estremera on Unsplash

when our pasts cannot

reconcile.

Hurt me with my love’s ill hope

when only one can

smile.

Blame me of the sin we keep;

Indict me for our

trials.

But love me not and let me fall.

I concede my heart’s

exile.

Two

I let you be the needle, weaving

threads throughout my love,

making textiles out of

my pain.

kelly-sikkema-754737-unsplash

Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash

Blanket me dearly, tie my arms

behind my back, take my clothes,

drag my worth out through

the rain.

Wash me clean, let the grace fall

deeply to my bones. I will cry,

out at the brightness of

my shame.

In and out pass through me now, open

wide these empty tombs, fill me up

flood each alley with the whispers of

your name.

chris-yang-422605-unsplash.jpg

Photo by Chris Yang on Unsplash

Take my eyes, take my heart, take

patterned squares within my soul, leave

me open, leave me scarred to

the blame.

For it is mine and mine alone, each

sin that holds me close, you take

my love, I give my life as yours

to claim.


See you Friday.

Robert Frost and an Original– Two Poems

josh-calabrese-527813-unsplash.jpg

Photo by Josh Calabrese on Unsplash

As I head back to SLO today, I’m thinking that sometimes transparency can be a good thing. I wrote the second poem here a little bit ago to play with a new style and in honor of World Suicide Prevention Day which is September 10th; for the love of poetry, I’ve included one of my favorite Robert Frost poems too.

Remember to treat yourself like someone you love this week, happy Tuesday everyone. Here’s what I’ve got for you.


Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening– Robert Frost

lilian-velet-692482-unsplash

Photo by Lilian Velet on Unsplash

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

Transparency

The sadness can’t even
ache anymore;
it just sits
and stays
and holds
and hurts.

annie-spratt-1048363-unsplash.jpg

Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

It leaves me empty and desperate
for someone
to help me up
or out
or away
or through
or within.

For the loneliness, it’s cruel
to want ignorance
so soon
so badly
so achingly…
So please.

Tell me why broken
dreams make a home
out of me,
leave me lonely
and too tired
to keep this up
on my own;

I can’t bear
this weight
any longer–
The ache,
it never stopped,
did it?


If there’s anything you like or anything you would like to see more of from me, feel free to hop over to the Contact Me section; I would love to hear from you. See you all on Friday.

 

Two Poem Tuesday

Another Tuesday, another poem– and I’ve got two for you today. I was playing with a little imagery along with the last style I tried out, let me know what you think!


One

With every step this world

winds me up.

Twist and twist

and twist

the dial;

one more time

until it stops.

Now

let go.

Watch me walk,

watch me work,

watch me live my

life like it’s my job.

I will keep going

until that dial

untwists me

all the way back.

For then I will stop,

I will freeze,

I will be stuck

in my own ways,

until the next person

decides

to wind me up

again.

Two

My life has become a play

with missing pieces

and empty parts

of actors

who can no longer fill

their roles.

Must the show go on,

as the cogs

in the machine

always do,

or does a new one

begin,

not so fresh faced

but ready

in good time

nonetheless?

Is it possible

to be

both?


I hope you all are having a great week, see you Friday.

Two Poets, One Post– A Poetry Book Review

kinga-cichewicz-465184-unsplash.jpg

Photo by Kinga Cichewicz on Unsplash

How does someone define what good poetry looks like?

For some people, it’s what sounds beautiful, what makes them feel something. Even if all that can be is a little less alone.

So today, I’m doing a bit of a crossover between my poetry and book review monthly features to review two poetry books: one author that seems to have become the standard, and one that I believe has decided to change the standards completely.

Here we go:

Moon Theory— Robert. M. Drake (r.m.drake)

tony-detroit-362133-unsplash.jpg

Photo by Tony Detroit on Unsplash

Even if you don’t know this author, you’ve probably seen his work, whether it’s through tattoos, plastered onto city walls, popping into instagram feeds, or dyed onto a T shirt. He may have started small, but he didn’t stay that way for long.

I have been reading r.m. drake’s books since I was in high school, coming across the typewriter script through Instagram. This man was the beginning of a new kind of poetry for me. Even more than beautiful imagery and poetic words, his writing is a genuine ode to living and breathing in the world the way we do— through every little things that makes us who we are.

Over the years, I’ve collected each one his books, buying four more back in April before I realized there was another four I am still yet to own. When asked to write of my inspirations for art in a Junior year drawing and painting class, among Monet and Picasso, he was one of them. I said “His use of expression in his writing is indescribably eye opening and influential to the way I write and think.” In a quote from his book, there are little bits of what we all need reminders of sometimes:

“Find the courage to find your better days, and never lost track of the laughter that’s meant to find you.”
michael-fenton-512963-unsplash.jpg

Photo by Michael Fenton on Unsplash

As an ode to Self Love, Moon Theory holds at least one secret for each one of us. While many poets, myself included, make the mistake of writing things that are too redundant or obvious, Drake does not do the same. He writes things that should be obvious, but somehow aren’t until someone tells us the truth. His books can be that truth. Through this book, I think everyone can find something to relate to, something they need to hear, and in the end it can make people feel a little less alone.

That’s what poetry is, isn’t it? If you want to know more about the author, check him out here.

I wrote this for you— Iain S. Thomas

saffu-217918-unsplash.jpg

Photo by Saffu on Unsplash

I bought this book on a whim last summer— having a B&N in my hometown after so long without a bookstore really tests my self-control and my credit card— because I wanted to know if the dark, ambiguous cover lying in my hands held much of the same within its leaves. It didn’t.

This writer is different, his aim not even to write poetry but to write something and create something new, as he does with each of his works. This book, published back in 2011, was his first and it started off as a blog that was just for fun between him and his friend. Over time, it became so much more than that.

These days I have seen a lot of artistic takes on poetry, many of which combine some kind of drawing with the words they decide to put on a page. Thomas combined his words with photos taken by a friend Jon who was living in Japan. I found myself flipping through the book yesterday, taking in the photos and the abstract changes that occur through the book from his style and positioning choices. I found a quote that’s so hard to explain:

“The least you can do, is uncross your heart. Unhope to die.”
thought-catalog-575840-unsplash

Photo by Thought Catalog on Unsplash

He’s not wrong.

Between Thomas and Drake, their writing is beautiful and true. Nothing short of words that need to be heard. This anthology is nothing short of honest, in a dark and sometimes beautiful, though often sad, sort of way. But in a time of so much change and too many lies, his truth is refreshing. It’s relatable. Some of the poems remind you of who you are or who you wanted to be, others take you back to the shower thoughts you had and never wrote down. But each of them hold pieces of each of us. They help spell out the human existence.

Maybe you’ll check them out and let me know what you think. See you all Friday.

Marionette— A Poem

New poem for you today, this one is a little different but it’s a good time for trying out new styles. Feel free to let me know what you think about it.


Marionette

This world,

it handles me like

a play toy;

A tug this way,

a thought that way, 

suddenly

it makes me do

whatever it wants.

And all I can manage

is to nod, then move,

let it control me like

a marionette.

All of the strings tie

back to my heart

pulsing with every beat–

as even more hold close

to my body– pulling 

on me so tightly–

yet, I have not a say,

not a care,

not a want.

Not a breath my own.

Because

not a single one

of those

damn strings 

seem

to belong

to me.

Penny For My Poems

thought-catalog-470876-unsplash.jpgAnother day of poetry for you, here’s something new— short and sweet. I’ve been doing a whole lot of writing in the past few months, trying out new styles and working through what I can. What I’ve got for you today is a lot more recent, partially because my old writing is on my old phone, but also because this has been my headspace for a while now.

Though they may seem self-explanatory, I’d like to think there’s a lot of meaning in each line. Poem number one is a mirror of another poem I’ve written (shout out to you if you recognize that first line), but I changed the angles a bit. And that second one was written while not paying attention in English class– I’d like to think it was more important at the moment, but my professor may not agree. So give these a quick read and let me know what you think. Maybe you can figure out the full meaning along the way.


One

hernan-sanchez-160709-unsplashAs I lay my head to rest

I wonder if

you’re resting too.

I wonder if that rest is what

you needed, what

you knew

was coming. I have questions now

too many…

If only you

could come back home and answer them…

one thing I know

you can’t do.

Two

lucas-sankey-365365-unsplashCreep around my edges, careful that you be

around the glass, sharpened pieces

that have become of me.

Let your fingers ‘bout each door, who’s locks are

never shut, never hinged, confirmation

of which you may be sure.

I’ll let you in, let you close though

our fingers never touch, call to question

of your purpose here to show.

ornella-binni-148189-unsplash (1)For you are here, a lie to hold

within the brokenness I know; for your

beauty may never grow old.

But let your presence hold me steady,

bring me peace until you go; hold me up

till on my own, I can be ready.


Have a beautiful rest of the week everyone, see you Friday.