Wednesday, February 21, 2018

The Ax

Good afternoon dear reader

It was time to write. So many words live in my heart and my head, but none of them have made it into a poem. It was time to change that. I could tell as I wrote this that I am desperately out of practice, but it felt good to finally get some words down. Please enjoy.

RK
Feb. 21 / 2018



An axe was put to a tree;
a sharpened tool cut,
causing pain.
Causing pain.

Blow by blow, that tree shuddered;
what once was solid and strong
became fragile.
The tree no longer had confidence
in being able to stand
straight and tall.
Too much damage
had been done.

I wish my hand
had never gripped
that axe of destruction.
I long for the tree
to be whole again.
I weep for what I have wrought;
my tears are not enough
to replenish the strength
of that beautiful tree
I caused to suffer.

Tuesday, October 10, 2017

Epiphany

Hello dear reader

I am a few days behind in my writing for OctPoWriMo. I have thought about not finishing, as I am having troubles finding my muse. But, continue I will. At my own pace. 
Please enjoy Day 5's poem, which prompted us to write something based on lessons learned. I think I have captured it quite well in an acrostic called Epiphany.

RK

Each day anew, I see the
Possibility that
I will experience
Pain.
Having the ability to deal with
A lot of negatives will
Never let me down.
Yesterday is in the past.


Thursday, October 5, 2017

Poetry

Hello dear reader...today is Day 5 of OctPoWriMo. I had a really good start to my piece for Day 4, but really struggled with the ending. Finally today, I got it. So I will post Day 4's piece now, and hopefully by tonight I will have Day 5 written.

Our prompt on Day 4 was:
Where does poetry hide in your life? In your city? Are you moved by clouds and water? Stormy skies or sunshine and fluffy clouds? Maybe this prompt can be a poetic vacation, a way for you to give words to your dream location.

I hope you enjoy what I turned this into. 
RK

In the murky depths
of my algae riddled mind
lie words yet to written,
thoughts not yet born.

Behind eyes filled with sadness,
creativity is blurred
but not broken;
tears fall,
only to form
passionate patterns in verse.

Inspiration can be heard
in every raindrop;
listening to a whispering muse
takes effort and will.

A heart beats in time,
setting a tempo
with the rhythm of its needs;
its cadence keeps me aware
of my wakening need
to write.

My soul is laid out,
taking everything
which comes it's way
and turns it into
poetry.


Tuesday, October 3, 2017

untitled

Dear reader, my post for day 3 of OctPoWriMo is intentionally untitled. You see, we were prompted to write a Cherita. Here is some info on it:
- The golden rule about a cherita is that it tells a story.
- A cherita is a very loose form. They are a stanza based form rather than a syllable-based one. And it is tradition that they are rarely titled. The form is simple: 

1 line stanza
2 line stanza
3 line stanza

The subject of the prompt is 'A Taste of Metal'. There are so many ways to go with this: Heavy metal music, the metal of my dentist's tool, to the metal of jewelry. But once again, I put my own slant on it.

I rarely write anything that could be a lightning rod for criticism. My intention with this Cherita is to say something about us as humans. I truly believe in what I wrote, and I will stand by it to my last breath. I hope, dear reader, that you understand and appreciate what I write. Even if you don't agree.

RK

it seems to be human tendency
to have a desire to play
judge, jury and executioner

without paying heed to that very framework
in which our belief system is based;
it is foil in my teeth knowing that I too, am human.




Monday, October 2, 2017

What is the Question

Welcome to day 2 of OctPoWriMo, dear reader. Today's prompt is...well, I am not going to tell you. My wife calls today's poem 'cryptic', and that is high praise indeed. For I meant it to be. I will not carry on with a great introduction, but rather I will say "Enjoy the poem".

RK

A slinger of ink
a hoister of thought,
I bandy words about
provocatively.

My muse dabbles in form,
creativity freely flirts
with no shame
or rhyme.

With a preference to love,
I cannot abide
animosity through what I scribble.
Let me enchant you
in verse,
allow my contemplations
to beguile you.

Erratic though it may seem,
there is always a purpose,
a thread that ties
it all together.

Ponder
what I have presented,
think
on this declaration of purpose.

If my words are enough,
then I need not state
the question which has
been answered.