Tag Archive | poetry

#OctPoWriMo (day 8 of 31)

DAY 8

– Prompt –

What Do You Know, and How Do You Know It?

* * *

I went with an Etheree for this one. I usually like them to look a little cleaner, but . . . the tired has me.

An Etheree is a wedge-shaped form consisting of 10 lines with a syllable count per line of, 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10. It doesn’t require rhyme or meter, but should contain a message. Etherees with more than one verse are fun and look great on the page, just reverse the syllable count for each additional verse.

* * * 

How

do we

know the truth

of what we’re told,

lest we examine

the knowledge for ourselves,

uncover and discover,

dig deeper, find correlation,

question, search, scrutinize, understand,

that’s how we find the truth of what we’re told.

* * *

I learn by doing, by seeing, by thinking, and feeling. I listen, but that isn’t how I learn. I take cues from what I’m told, from what others try to teach, then I dig deeper, exploring, discovering, uncovering, immersing, and digesting morsels of knowledge as I find them. Facts and histories, not simply versions and diversions from truths with possible twists to fit the atmosphere of the day. I want to learn from masters and intellectual gods, not regurgitated rhetoric from someone who read a book or heard a lecture and proclaimed themselves an expert. I don’t want to know how it’s been interpreted, I want to know what is and was and will always be. Actuality, factuality, undeniable, and reliable. I don’t want to be told and expected to accept with blind faith in a system of fault and misinformation, I want to learn, to see, to touch, to examine, to read. I want to know . . .

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* * * 

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Previous Challenge Posts ~

#OctPoWriMo 2017

Day 1How Did You Get here?

Day 2 – We Write Because We Must

Day 3 – Cherita Poem – Metal

 

#OctPoWriMo (day 7 of 31) Lines We Cannot See

 

DAY 7

Prompt – Crossing the Line

* * *

We all have opinions, thoughts, and beliefs . . . but, and this has always been so, it’s sometimes dangerous to speak them. Social media has a dark side. Those who express themselves, thinking outside of the status quo, those who share an opinion someone else may disagree with, end up on the wrong side of keyboard warriors, friends become foes. Feelings are hurt, words are misinterpreted, skewed.

For the most part, I try to stay out of it all, just keep scrolling.

My silence is not tantamount to inaction. My actual actions speak for themselves. I grow weary of people flinging round the accusation that if you are not a part of the discussion, you are part of the problem. I’ve seen too many of these discussions – they are themselves, part of the problem. 

People aren’t speaking to each other, they are speaking at and against each other. People aren’t listening to hear, they are listening to find fault.

It tires me.

It breaks my heart.

* * * 

The Lines We Cannot See

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Lines drawn in

sinking sands,

invisible boundaries

you don’t know

you’ve crossed

until you’ve taken

a single step

too far,

whispered a simple word

too many,

and you’re eye to eye

with an enemy

you didn’t know you had.

Ready.

Aim.

Fire.

Your judge,

a stranger, unknown

faceless masses,

your jury,

alone before the gavel,

their wrath

becomes your

penalty.

Standing in

your own defense,

not allowed to speak,

guilty or innocent,

sentenced to silence,

unless you choose

to agree,

no recompense given,

thoughts, no longer,

are free.

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Previous Challenge Posts ~

#OctPoWriMo 2017

Day 1How Did You Get here?

Day 2 – We Write Because We Must

Day 3 – Cherita Poem – Metal

#OctPoWriMo (Day 6 of 31) Pacing the Floor – Don’t Forget to Breathe

DAY 6

Prompt – Pacing the Floor

* * *

img_260627 steps, round way trip, 54,

with a detour, add 42,

maybe more.

Count them, tap them

with fingertips

and soundless word,

lip sync pantomime,

don’t let the panic free.

   12, 13, 14, 15,

      don’t forget to breathe.

   Go round and round,

again,

   once more.

Look up.

   Everything is fine.

Full stop.

     Everything is fine,

like it was before.

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Previous Challenge Posts ~

#OctPoWriMo 2017

Day 1How Did You Get here?

Day 2 – We Write Because We Must

Day 3 – Cherita Poem – Metal

#OctPoWriMo (Day 4 of 31) Where Does Poetry Hide?

My Words by Crystal R. Cook

DAY 4

(it’s day 8, I caught up, then fell behind, still writing)

Prompt – Where Does Poetry Hide in Your life?

Poetry is everywhere

* * *

It flows round me and within me, it’s in the air I breathe,
it’s in the shadows that I cast, and in my midnight dreams.

It’s in the tears I won’t let fall, and in the ones I have to weep,
it’s in the honest truths, I do not dare to speak.

It’s hiding in my weakness, it roars within my strength,
it’s in my greatest victories, and in my worst defeats.

It’s in my every heartbeat, it’s where my love resides,
it’s in battles I must fight, it’s where my doubt and faith collide.

It’s there when I lose hope, and when my hope’s renewed,
it tiptoes through my nightmares, it’s in my dreams come true.

It’s in my day to day, my yesterdays and tomorrows,
it’s in my pleasure and my pain, in my happiness and my sorrow.

It’s in my stops and starts, and in the breaking of my heart,
it’s with the thing I sometimes fear, may be hiding in the dark.

It’s part of all my ins and outs, and all my in-betweens,
it’s in everything I imagine, it’s in everything I’ve seen.

It’s in words which I have spoken, and those I’ve left unsaid,
it walks among the living, it whispers with the dead.

It lies beside the monsters, underneath my bed,
it’s everywhere I go, and it’s where I dare not tread.

It’s in what I’ve whispered, it’s in what I’ve spoke,
it’s in promises I’ve kept, and promises I’ve broke.

It’s in everything I do, in everything that shapes me,
it’s in the fabric I am made of, it’s in the things that break me.

It’s in what I’ve hidden, it’s in what I’ve found,
that’s where my poetry hides, that’s where my poetry abounds . . .

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~ Previous Challenge Posts ~

#OctPoWriMo 2017

Day 1 How Did You Get here?

Day 2 – We Write Because We Must

Day 3 – Cherita Poem – Metal

#OctPoWriMo (Day 3 of 31)

 

DAY 3

(it’s still day 4, I’ve almost caught up with the crowd! )

Prompt – The Taste of Metal

Write a Cherita using the following prompt as inspiration – The Taste of Metal

A cherita is a form of poetry referred to as hexostitch. It is a 6 line, 3 stanza poem. The first stanza is 1 line, the second, 2, and the third, 3. Cheritas are typically untitled and unrhymed, each cherita should tell a tale.

(Sometimes I follow directions, sometimes I use them as coasters. There is metal in my cherita, it just isn’t being tasted . . .)

* * *

Small metal box, cold to the touch, wrapped in the tulle of an old wedding veil.

Frail and fragile hands caress the top, lift the latch, reach inside.
Watercolor eyes, wet with tears, blink and stare at the treasure within.

One by one she holds them. Word by word she reads them. Each fading page brings memory back to life, she holds his words like she once held his hand, and spreads her wings to join him.

 

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Previous Challenge Posts

#OctPoWriMo 2017

Day 1 How Did You Get here?

Day 2 – We Write Because We Must

#OctPoWriMo (Day 2 of 31)

 

DAY 2

(really, it’s day 4, still late to the party)

Prompt – We Write Because We Must

Free write for ten minutes stating, “We write because we must” 

* * *

We write because we must . . . because the alternative might be madness.


Sometimes words take us by the hand and lead us to the page, we slip off our shoes and dance with them, dance with them for days. We give them reign and let them roam, following were they go, and when we tire, we lay them down, off to rest they go.

Sometimes they beg to rise, once we lay down them down to sleep. We haven’t the time, we need to rest, we pray their souls to keep. Just for a while, precious words, for a while please be still. But with their silent pleas and sorrow, they lead us to the quill.

Sometimes they command, demand attention and release. Overwhelm our thoughts and take control of all our dreams. Not to be ignored, they rage, lest we put them on a page.

There are those among us who can quell the voice within, for others, the only way to quiet them is with a page and pen.

We write to free ourselves, and set others free as well. We write because there’s stories, so many stories we must tell. We write to right the wrongs we see, to fill in voids and blanks. We spread out words before us, and within them, we escape.

We write to soothe our souls, to scream in silent sound, we write to fill the silence with a different kind of sound. We write to find out who we are and what’s inside us.

We write . . . we write, because we simply must.

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Previous Challenge Posts

#OctPoWriMo 2017

Day 1 How Did You Get here?

#OctPoWriMo (day 1 of 31)

DAY 1

(really, it’s day 4, but I’m late to the party)

Prompt – How did you get here?

Forged in fire,
tempered with faith,
in battle I’ve broken,
been mended by grace.
Wounded warrior,
still standing to fight,
shrouded in darkness,
bathing in light.
I stand before God
courageous and scared,
I stand before God,
my soul laid bared.
Mountains I’ve climbed
have filled me with strength,
the miles I’ve traveled
have given me wings.
I tell of my journey
in verse line and ink
in poetry and prose
I breathe and I think.
Chapter by chapter
my story is told
my heart,
my heart is beating,
on the pages you hold.
Every path I have walked,
every detour I’ve trodden,
are mapped on my soul
and never forgotten.
Every step, every stumble
is writ upon my heart,
an unfolding, living story
in which I play a part.

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