I hate to be in love.
It is such an awful thing
to be so beautiful and so desired.
Captures the heart to wring
until it has expired.
Love is naught but a soul-eater,
ravishing until all is ravaged.
Mistress of deceit, Queen Maltreater,
she is not to be engaged.
Causing victims to feel indomitable,
self-preserving caution thrown to wind.
Once safe in love, hapless and comfortable,
she will that happiness rescind.
In one way, or perhaps another, time will come
when that love shall be gone.
There will be pain before it turns numb,
For there’s no liaison with that greatest con.
I hate to be in love.
None desire the
leaky mug or
hold a beautiful
so, too, a broken
soul or the
Thoughts blister from
scalding through veins.
Heartbeat a thrum,
pumping the bellows
lest sensation wane.
My heartstrings strum
to rising passion –
pleasure or pain –
one they become,
searching for outlet and
not in chains remain.
I just cannot get the poem out that’s crying for attention and release. Not how it wants to be anyway. So, this instead, to vent my frustration:
tumbling & grappling
vexing they vie
their merits pro-
twisted & entwined
defying my gumption
seceded allies they
conspire against me
these are my naughty
I am not “that girl”, no
Not me. I’m chaotic to
core and eclectic
in everything. The
full of weird forms
actions and words
to shock and
behind a sunny
turbulent soul and
haunting a mouth
that always is
Unravel me and
find hidden prize!
I tried another sonnet today, Spenserian this time.
“Infestation: A Sunshine Sonnet”
Warm sun upon back as these lines I write,
Seeping through flesh and into my soul
Lodging there, festering without invite
Where it defeats my inner gloom patrol.
Each ray makes pores for gladness a wormhole,
Through which peace creeps, infesting me to core
With serenity from my crown to sole,
Granting me the ease to shadows ignore.
Sunshine casts me in form of troubador,
And thus I write of that which me infests.
Now, tarry a bit longer I implore,
Hoping darkness within, the sun arrests.
Spring’s infestation of sunshine warm
My whole perspective does seem to transform.
Because i don’t foresee myself composing today. And besides, these fit my mood mostly, except for the last lines that are slightly more positive, hopeful, and forward-looking. Those three descriptors do not work right this moment…
From February 26, 2013
Captive forever, I am held
Hostage to ball and heavy chain,
My mind – my prison – confines me.
Depression forges dark links that
Shackle me to each of my fears,
Fettering me here, endlessly
Stationary, unable to
Move. I can fight if I want, but
‘Tis no use, for depression’s grip
Holds fast, constant, drags me quickly,
Under supervision of fear,
Back to my invisible cage.
Sometimes, when angry I grow, and
Weary, of such small enclosure,
Near delirium, I erupt
In frenzied rage that changes naught.
My perpetual torment: the
Life I desire lies beyond
Reach. Closer I cannot will it,
Nor wish it easier attained.
Fury misdirected and heat
Of wrath this chain won’t melt, nor ball
Crack from my bitterness frigid.
A life with depression and fear
Must be endured until strength and
Resiliency are trained. Then still
Will they follow, ever-present
As a shadow, haunt my steps; though
Now, their prison’s disempowered,
They remain leaden memories.
…when i miss a day, or when i let the abyss inside me win.
For yesterday, here’s one from February 12. This year.
Burning inside, forever
Running from wounds inescapable,
Overcome by haunted memory;
Kindled pain reignites
Endless visions of horror,
Negating forward progress.
Dread conquers and tramples,
Reaming soul, rending heart;
Every fiber of self – hollow.
Arising from blood and mud,
Marvelous, the Phoenix appears,
Soaring one more time.
…I will share this much: I’ve never truly given Charles Bukowski much time. Not a huge fan. Too…I don’t know. Too modernly raw, maybe? I’ve not read all of his poetry, only maybe a dozen. I’ve found three or four that I like. This one, I’m quite fond of:
“As the Poems Go By”
as the poems go into the thousands you
realize that you’ve created very
it comes down to the rain, the sunlight,
the traffic, the nights and the days of the
years, the faces.
leaving this will be easier than living
it, typing one more line now as
a man plays a piano through the radio,
the best writers have said very
and the worst,
far too much.
We’re nearly midway through the month (and almost to tax day here in the US (ugh)), so i thought i would host a mid-challenge review.
This is the first year I’ve participated. I’ve been writing for a decade and a half (jeez i feel old!), but never heard of NaPoWriMo before this year. Ironically, i had read something that challenged poetry writers to write a poem a day for a year. I’d only averaged about two a week til this month, whether because of “life stuff” getting in the way, battling depression, or revising the same poem for several days. This month, I’ve focused more on quantity than quality, just writing whatever comes to mind whether offhand or following prompts from NaPoWriMo.net, the writer’s digest poem-a-day challenge, various tweets from other participants, etc.
I’d like to hear about your experiences!
What have you learned from NaPoWriMo this year? About yourself? Your poetry and poetic ideas (or ideals)? About writing in general? Any new goals? What or who has been the greatest inspiration?
And, as it is simply National Poetry Month in general, have you discovered any new poets or poems that you enjoy? What has impacted you?
I’m sure I’ll think of more questions to ask by month’s end. And I’ll be mulling my own thoughts and experiences to share in a more coherent, less impulsive post than this! 🙂