Showing posts with label pain. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pain. Show all posts

Saturday, April 30, 2022

PAD 2022 Day 24: Hero Villain

 


This poem is presented in its rough draft form for the PAD 2022 challenge and will be revised. 


PAD Prompt: Hero / Villain 

Poetic Form:  Cadralore


"Life in a Moment"


1. He doesn’t understand why he hates

the boy. He knows it’s wrong, yet

his hands burn with a fire flamed

by everyone at school who feeds his ego

that is physically beat down when he gets home


2. He stands in the April snow, decades from their

last kiss. Broken from the loss of his life,

he has wandered to her door, unsure of what

happens next. He knocks and knocks. She

can’t answer because she has a new name.


3. She hears his voice, like a cyclone circling

across the coast line ruining a family

vacation. A game she learned on the driveway

with his love, that now storms through

her skills to win a medal and his approval.


4. She rages against a love that she never felt before.

The burning from the glass releases the gates

of remorse. Another two count goes down

in one motion. She lets the bar hold her up

as she dances to a song she doesn’t like.


5. Every choice we have now is because of the 

choices we made. We follow our hearts one time,

then choose what our minds think the next. 

Our fantasies mix with reality until we don’t know

if we are the villain or the hero of the moment.


Tuesday, April 19, 2022

PAD 2022 Day 14: Scary


 This poem is presented in its rough draft form for the PAD 2022 challenge and will be revised. 


PAD Prompt: Scary

Poetic Form: Dansa


“Death has a Favorite Spot”


We all fill a grave.

Darkness under our nails.

Our eyes fading to a pale

marble. Time a cold wave.

We all fill a grave.


Death pauses for a moment.

He knows there is no opponent

that will find me to save.

We all fill a grave.


I watch my world fade out,

to reappear on a seaside lookout.

Death next to me. I stand brave.

We all fill a grave.


Why are we here? I look up.

Death chuckles, I like the buildup

of taking a soul, the shockwave.

We all fill a grave.


My chest cracks, pain is set

in my heart. My eyes fill with regret.

All as Death’s hands wave.

We all fill a grave.


Sunday, May 16, 2021

April Poetry Challenge 2021: Day Fourteen

 


Day 14 Prompt: From Where You are Sitting

Form: Fib


“From My Desk”


Rows

filled

with hope.

Students’ eyes

a mix of past pain

with vows to heal their broken view.

Monday, February 22, 2021

Poetic Form 100: Glosa

 Why Write Poetry

Whenever the question comes up,

the poets all say the same thing:

the only poem we’re interested in is the next poem,

the one not written, the poem of tomorrow.


“The Next Poem” - Billy Collins


I have read that poetry is not needed.

That the world will revolve without words

that rhyme or follow meter.

This might be true

for a life void of crayons,

or animals made with dixie cups,

glue, and construction paper.

I reply that poetry is in a child’s song,

in tears of a lifetime breakup,

whenever the question comes up.


All art draws a line for our souls.

Bringing the unimaginable

from abstract to concrete,

to keep us from drowning

in a sea filled with waves

caused by life, by everything.

A brush, a guitar string, or these

words I search for to create a moment

for the reader to take wing.

The poets all say the same thing.


A poem is a present we send

to an unexpected world not knowing

if anyone will appreciate the 

painting inside the paper and bow.

Every word a small piece of truth

to inspire the lonesome,

the joyful, and the budding artist.

Poets write to stitch the fabric of living

for the pages of history. It’s known

the only poem we’re interested in is the next poem.


So, take these lines at this time

as a chance to see the frame

of a life lived, no matter how far away

from the emotions pulsing through

your veins. Grab a brush, a pair of scissors,

tap a tune that defines the depth of woe.

The world will turn, no matter what art is not created.

But the colors and emotions will be faded. 

I’ll be living, feeling the edges of a new rhyme though,

the one not written, the poem of tomorrow.


Poetic Form #100: Glosa

The Glosa or Glose is a Spanish poetic form that uses a quatrain from another 

poet’s work to structure the poet’s poem.

The form guidelines are:

1. A cabeza (or motto) – the quatrain borrowed from another poet, whose 

authorship must be acknowledged

2. Four 10-line stanzas, each ending with one of the lines in sequence from the cabeza.

3. The rhyme-scheme requirement is lines 6 and 9 rhyme with the final word of line 10 

of each stanza.

Tuesday, November 17, 2020

And Like That



And Like That


And like that

  a student from the past

    no longer has a future


A young man in my memory

    grown to be a farmer and family man


I remember 

    a boyish grin above

    a home jersey with the number 5

    an underclassman

    waiting for time to give him his chance

I would chat with him on the sidelines

    about the last play


And like that


I can see that smile as his bride walks down the aisle

I can imagine the smile he had for the birth of his children

Or the long gaze to the horizon

    on a late autumn evening

The wheels of his tractor still

pride of a good life flowing through his veins

    warming his callous hands

That innocent smile

    creeping onto his face

    as he shifts the tractor into drive

Heading home to eat dinner with his wife 

    and three kids


And like that


Tonight there will be no smiles

The horizon will receive too many questions

    centered on why he was taken

    why daddy isn’t coming home

   

And like that


Family will come together

Only to feel a shocking sense of being alone

Every word they wanted to say

    sets like the sun at the end of the day

Every possible

    I love you

    and good night kiss

Will feel like a heavy coat of regret

Pockets empty

    like the tomorrows he no longer has


And like that


His family will stuff their hands deep into that sorrow

Hoping to find something

anything

     to remind them of his voice


And like that


We are all left with memories


Mine of a boyish grin

on the sideline of a football game

years ago


*In memory of Bryce Niss 11-17-2020

Thursday, September 10, 2020

Poetic Form 58: Pantoum

 

 

Let there be...

At the beginning of the world, when all was dark,

I wish God would have voiced another command,

“Let there be love!” That would have been a better start.

Instead we were given light, seas, and land.


I wish God would have voiced another command.

Say something that would have let us see joy,

instead we were given light, seas, and land.

We walk these hours blind and hurting, smiles only a decoy.


Say something that would have let us see joy,

allow us to fill our counted days with love. Building a life, 

we walk these hours blind and hurting, smiles only a decoy.

It’s not only our backs, but our chests hurt from the knives.


Allow us to fill our counted days with love, building a life. 

Without that command, the sun and moon watch as we all fall.

It’s not only our backs, but our chests hurt from the knives.

Our ears bleed, hands shake, loneliness hurts above all.


Why couldn’t God speak what we needed most these days?

“Let there be love!” That would have been a better start.

Maybe we could have lived a life clear of such an angry blaze,

at the beginning of the world, when all was dark.



Poetic Form #58: Pantoum


The pantoum form is a set of quatrains (4-line stanzas) that starts with an abab rhyme scheme. 

With each quatrain you repeat lines 2 and 4 in the previous stanza as lines 1 and 3 in the next 

stanza, creating a new rhyme scheme. Second stanza would be bcbc.

There are two options for the final quatrain.  You can repeat lines 1 and 3 of the original 

quatrain as lines 2 and 4 in the final quatrain. Another option is to invert lines 1 and 3 so 

that the first line of the poem is also the final line of the poem.

Thursday, July 30, 2020

Poetic Form 51: The Blitz



Throat Not Cut

Wolves at the door

Wolves at my throat

Throat bleeding

Throat hurting

Hurting my lungs

Hurting my eyes

Eyes filled with tears

Eyes burning

Burning the past

Burning my future

Future filled with fear

Future falling to pieces

Pieces of paper

Pieces of poems

Poems of hate

Poems of love

Love lost

Love found

Found in a box

Found by time

Time spent

Time lost

Lost to another

Lost in prayers

Prayers of salvation

Prayers in silence

Silence of the heart

Silence that echos 

Echos of the past

Echos of words

Words not said

Words that stumble

Stumble through life

Stumble and fall

Fall for the lies

Fall into winter

Winter always comes

Winter nights

Nights filled with stars

Nights hold danger

Danger of death

Danger around the corner

Corners hide

Corners sharp

Sharp like knives

Sharp enough to cut

Cut to the heart

Cut out the pain

Pain…

heart...



Poetic Form #51: The Blitz

The Blitz is a form based on rapid fire short phrases, with a repetitive format. 

The first line is one short phrase or image. The second line uses the first word

from line one with another short phrase.  Lines three and four start with the last

word of line two. Then lines five and six start with the last word of line four.

Repeat this pattern through 48 lines. Line 49 is the last word of line 48 and line 50

is the last word of line 47. The title of the poem is three words long using this format:

first word of line three, preposition or conjunction and the first word of line 47.

There is no punctuation.