Rainy day
just in time to break away
Away from the pain that makes you old
away from the tears that make you cold
A chill that crudely rules your ways
and also quickly numbers your days
So before your life has run you down
just turn around so love can stay
In honor of Valentine's day, I thought I would spin up a few poems of mine about Love:
Love is so simple
but we don't have the patience to make it so
Love is like a flickering candle
just one breath is all it can handle
Steady streams of air keep it going
for love is always ever flowing
So find the love and you will know
just how to grow in life's big gamble
If love is endless
then have I found love
Is it creeping around the corner
like a peaceful dove
Will I know its place
like the back of my hand
Or will I have to look further
like a penny in white sand
Can I be sure of what I know
or will I never know
Will I then learn to grow
and see all of the above
Love grows within the briars an bushes for the fire
for love is the only pain we all want to acquire
Where is my love whom I adore
has it disappeared into forgotten lore
A story told to please ourselves
as we put our love on forgotten shelves
To lock the door with unmarked key
and stop ourselves from being free
So free ourselves from this pleasurable pain
so we can gain our love all the more
Love it is a wonderful thing
it makes some cry and others sing
It takes some in and lets some go
and is always there and helps you grow
So don't let your love play the opossum
and let it blossom like the early spring
Beauty is in the heart
where love always makes its start
Life is an axle where all things revolve
and love is the center from which life can evolve
Love is like a plant
give it the proper nourishment and it grows
But stop feeding it
and it will die and fade away
In honor of Mamma Kat's Writer's Workshop I have decided to tackle prompt #3:
Write a poem that about a time you felt betrayed.
This is not written for any particular time, but it seems to portray the feeling that one gets when they feel that they have been betrayed by the one they love:
Without my love my body weeps
within my soul my heart sleeps
Awakened again by cold pain
my body shivers without restrain
I hold my head still to hear a sound
but I only discover there's no one around
I've found my place, I've won no race
I only wish they'd see my space
So who's to say I can't go on
my love is gone… I'm not the one
I particularly like the way I tie the end of one line logically with the next. I'm really proud of this technique— so much so that I use this technique in many of my future poems as well.
This week's Spin Cycle topic is Love. Since I tend to talk about Love a lot, I thought I would show you Love instead…
When I first wrote this poem I was completely unaware of ASCII Art. The original is on a piece of graph paper with numbers next to the letters to indicate how many spaces to use when typing out the poem. I really love the fact that it spells out the word LOVE.
Love is a magical word
It can take any broken heart and make amend
It's a good word anyone can use
to be a good friend.
L
ove
IsA
Mag
ic
Wo
rd
ItC anT
a keAny
Br ok
en He
ar tA n
dMak eI
tMe n
d.
I t's
a Go
odWo r
dAn
yOneC
anU se
ToB e AG
oo d
Fr
ien
d
cj84'
I look for a way to free my soul
from the time that has put me in a hole
A hole of chores that slow me down
'til I'm put at rest with no white gown
I wear the clothes that shut me in
and tie me up so I can't begin
My heart begins to weep again
as I look across my plain
I only wish I could leave this trap
and find the map to make me whole
Looking back on this poem it seems to sum up those days where the tediousness of life seem to trap you in. I was amazed by my usage of the word "plain" in the second line of the fourth stanza. Being spelling challenged— I originally meant to use the word plane (intended to refer to a field or plane), and mistakenly wrote it down as plain. Interestingly, this mis-choice of word gives it a better meaning when I look it over today.
Love is like a flickering candle
just one breath is all it can handle
Steady streams of air keep it going
for love is always ever flowing
So find the love and you will know
just how to grow in life's big gamble
Love is like a plant
give it the proper nourishment and it grows
But stop feeding it
and it will die and fade away
There is a breach to reach
but the door is on the floor
So we have to bend to lend
the hand that cannot impeach
Whenever I play a game with a child, I find that sometime during the game, the rules somehow change. And not only that… but they seem to change in favor of the person who changed the rule. Then, when you call them out on the rule they changed before, it somehow changes again.
Rulers are typically used to measure things. We like to see how big or small something is. We like to know how large the field we are playing on is. I am reminded of the scene in the movie Hoosiers where the basket ball coach asks the boys to measure the height of the baskets and the size of the court to prove a point.
I wrote a poem in college that I'll use to illustrate changing the rules:
If you change your boundaries
you must also change the rules to the game
When someone is a Ruler they are considered someone who rules over others. They are the ones who watch over us and make sure that we do not step out of bounds. We ourselves are our own rulers because we set limits on what we can and cannot do. As I have gotten older I have come to realize that many of the things I used to be able to do I no longer can do (or if I did, I would regret it later). Because my boundaries have changed, I need to change the rules so I can continue to play the game.
How do you "measure up" to the rules that you restrict yourself with?
Take me back to my thoughts of old
to the days of good times devoid of pain and cold
Where smiles flourish and love grows
where all are happy… and it shows
So show me those loving smiles
and we all can walk for miles through that story that is told
I am neither a leader nor a follower
but a gatherer
cj-85'
You tend to hear people refer to someone as a leader: "She's a great leader…", "It's always nice to know we have a leader like him…", etc.… One thing we do not hear is people referring to someone as a follower. Could this be that we are afraid to follow, or do we put too much emphasis on being a leader?
Perhaps we think of leaders more highly because they tend to be the ones in the spotlight. Also, we may look to leaders more admiringly and wish that we had the same qualities as they do. I think that being a leader or a follower is not a full time commitment. Sometimes we are a leader and sometimes we are a follower.
Being a follower shouldn't be considered a bad thing. Many times we tend to follow someone's example— or even follow along with a group. We are not following blindly, but rather make the choice to follow.
I believe that we should recognize Leaders and Followers not as personality traits— but rather as roles that each of us play. We take on the roll of leader or follower when the situation calls for it— not because it is ingrained in our personality. How often do we find ourselves following someone's advice, or taking charge of the situation. We may not be recognized as a leader or a follower at those moments, but we are being a leader or a follower at the time.
Rather than asking what makes a good leader, I will ask what you think makes a good follower. What to you makes a good follower… discuss…
This week's Spin Cycle is a poetry spin. I thought I would contribute a poem that has spinning involved in it just to keep with the theme a bit more.
This is one of those self reflective poems I wrote when I was quite depressed at not having anybody. Even today I sometimes get that feeling that perhaps those people to whom you call "friend" are not there for you and you are left alone.
Running in circles the trail my own.
Again I must admit I am alone.
No one around to share the time
nobody at all to be just mine.
Again and again I'm in despair
I find someone but they're never there
And so I'll always be here patiently
waiting for someone who can find me.
But until then
I guess I'll never have a friend.
In honor of Mamma Kat's Writer's Workshop I have decided to tackle Prompt #5:
What’s so good about it? Write an interesting poem or piece of writing where the last two words of the writing are ‘good-bye’.
I have been wanting to post this poem for quite some time. And since the muse spoke to me through Mama Kat— who was inspired by writingfix.com… it looks like my muse is pretty distant— but is still on speaking terms with me.
I wrote this poem in high school which pretty much sums up my frustrations at the time. It wasn't until later when I re-read the poem that I realized it could be construed as a suicide note. Bearing this in mind, you will need to treat the two Hello's as coming from someone else— the first with an inquiring tone, and the second with a reassuring tone. Someday I will have to record myself reciting my poetry so that you better understand the overall tone of this poem.
I feel I'm trapped inside of myself… Hello
I have no place to hide from the entrapment that has kept me inside.
Who's crude walls are those who push me aside.
Where is my hero of need who sits on their trusting steed?
Nowhere, for they heed to rescue me from my gloom.
The gloom that takes my hand away from the life that was meant to stay…Good-bye
Hello
When I was in high-school youth group there were many times I saw someone who looked like they needed comforting. I would then approach them and ask "Do you want to talk". They would decline and I would walk away. Then a few minutes later I would pass by and see that someone else was comforting them.
I think this experience has made me a bit gun-shy when it comes to approaching someone to give them the comfort they deserve. Sometimes it makes me wonder if people see me as one who can comfort. This in turn feeds my insecurities and makes me question my ability to be truly compassionate towards others. I do not think that I am any less capable of offering comfort than others— I just wish that I could get the opportunity to do so.
How often do you hesitate being compassionate towards others? Do you find that it is appropriate to offer your comfort— or do you shy away because it may appear to be too forward.
Whenever I am given an opportunity to comfort someone, I usually ask myself if I have the necessary background to be effective when I comfort them. In this I feel a bit at a loss because I do not know the history behind their need. I have experienced first hand the concept of Sometimes a stranger is better company than a friend— where it does not matter how well you know the person if the words you convey to them are truly sincere. Knowing this gives me the confidence to know that I can comfort someone, even if it is general and not specific.
Many times people put up a post that expresses their feelings and shows that they are looking for direction or advice. I think that many of us feel lost and don't know where to turn so we cast out our thoughts to the world in hopes that someone understands us.
Why do I sometimes feel compelled to offer words of advice?
I sometimes find that the words I offer sound a lot like "pat advice" which may seem empty and lacking sincerity. This puts into question my intentions when I make a comment on other people's blogs. Just to get the record straight:
I am not the kind of person who is saying these things in order to play Arm-chair quarterback and tell you how to run the play. I typically draw from experience and hope that my words impart of my experiences and assist you in seeing a different perspective.
I will leave you with two poems I wrote that summarize the giving and receiving end of things:
You find someone who's not yet there
and ask yourself now should I care.
Should I show the path to set them straight
or wait a while until it's too late.
So come to me and all the more
you'll find the door and be aware.
You find a friend when life seems down
it seems like chance they've come around.
A friend you find who seems to know
to pick you up and help you grow.
Now be a friend I'll find so well
so we can tell that love has been found.
This weeks Spin Cycle is on appearances. Since I tend to see the way people are rather than how they appear, I thought I would share a poem which sums up the difference between what is on the outside and what is on the inside:
Beauty they say is only skin deep
but why then do we want to keep
The skin we see has learned to hide
the beautiful soul that is trapped inside
Only with the heart can we truly see
to break the skin and set it free
So learn to see with your heart today
and find a way to free souls from sleep
Friend…
Yes friend…
Find me.
How can I find you— you're right here…
That's not what I'm asking you to find.
Then what is there to find…
I see you standing before me
I can hear the words from your mouth
I can smell your presence and anticpate touching my lips to yours and tasting your sweet kiss.
Beyond that there is only two things left to look for— your heart and your soul.
Now that you know the direction— you can find the way.
I forget what I was going through when I wrote this poem, but I do find that it seems to sum up the feelings one gets when you find things come to you way too easily.
What worth is the world to myself
if I have found the wonders of great wealth.
My riches they give not to me
but only restrict and make me not see.
So why have it all and never have none
and think that you've won one more on the shelf.
I have used the phrase "Why have it all— when you can have none". I typically use that phrase to show humbleness. So often we strive to have it all. If we ever have it all we believe that everything is ours for the taking and never consider the consequence of our actions in getting it all. If you have it all do you really have it all— or is there just one more thing that you want?
This is one of my six line poems in honor of Valentine's day. I rather like the imagery that it portrays— especially since I consider Love as something intangible.
Love it is a wonderful thing
it makes some cry and others sing.
It takes some in and lets some go
and is always there and helps you grow.
So don't let your love play the opossum
and let it blossom like the early spring.
Do you have any poetry on Love you would like to share?
In honor of the Spin Cycle by Sprite's Keeper— I have decided to place my spin on this weeks assignment— Fear. Rather than list something that I fear, I figured I would offer some advice in the form of a poem:
One day when I was doodling topographical lines in the shape of an island (yes, I'm geeky like that)… I noticed that the lines resembled a face. After drawing one of the eyes in, I noticed that there was another face showing as well. When I was finished… I had the following picture:
If you look at the picture it looks like there is a sinister face that is making the other face recoil in fear. After looking at this picture, I was inspired to write the following poem:
Fear… of what may I ask?
of being in or out of task;
or being with or without pass.
Passing through the door of fear
is like passing into another world;
it can be so strange at times to make you curled.
Curled up so much, that only you can see your fears
others try, but can only guess at where.
Where, it's only possibly yourself.
So get going, get out of the grip of fear;
which may last for years
And years.
I rather like the way in which I take the last word of the previous stanza and use it in the first line of the next. I have used this technique in other poems that I have written as well. I hope that this poem inspires you to face your fears and conquer them.
This poem I must have written sometime after school started up again. It incorporates my "six-line" style formula in which the initial pairings rhyme and the second to last line rhymes with a word in the last line and the last word of the last line line rhymes with the first two. It also ties each of the pairs together logically which is a feature I like about these types of poems. I find that it shows the hopefulness and disappointments that sometimes accompany changes in the season.
As I slowly sit and watch the summer fade away
the winter winds creep in and cloud up the day.
Years gone by in times of dread and pain
the waiting for it all finds me no gain.
What new ground have I reached all torn and pail
my plans I decide all seem to fail.
The failure seems endless but at least there's hope
for one strong soul that knows how to cope.
To put up with my misery and comfort my needs
and only plant those seeds that reveal the play.
It appears that Otin's Rhyming Wednesday is not up today, but I thought I would contribute one of my poems anyway. Many of you have been asking for a poem— so I thought I would not disappoint.
I wrote this while in college, but ran across it recently. So many times I write something that may sound pretty at the time— but it takes on a more profound meaning when I come back to it.
Living on a plateau
I find no new trend.
No mountains to climb, no cliffs to jump
no place to begin or end.
My goals are short
my dreams are long.
Nothing too near
or too close to belong.
All I need is to find anew
one not too few to be a friend.
