No way!

Poetry Thursday – tackling the villanelle and wow was that fun or what? I really enjoyed doing doing this (and am now hoping I actually got it right).

No way!

no way of knowing whether you're out or in
that's the finer definition of being...
trapped underneath invisible skin

here we are, where uncharted territory begins
I'll sign my consent without seeing to what I'm agreeing
no way of knowing whether you're out or in

walk on through as long as you dare
feel the resonance of touching this snare
trapped underneath invisible skin

but don't be mislead in thinking this is me
you are blinded and I can't see
no way of knowing whether you're out or in

the last is a risk at the very beginning
treat this as a fight; you won't be winning
trapped underneath invisible skin

and when you rely on being yang to my yin
... you're actually spinning
no way of knowing whether you're out or in
trapped underneath invisible skin

Sparring;

en

garde

we invite

and engage

in our assault

a clear ballpoint slash

parry first…………………and I insist

….you disengage…………………..………. .I intercept

a mere platonic clash

. .bouton to battle……………………………………….know your forte

advance–balestra-lunge………………...………………………meet deception

colliding reprise………………………………………………………….a point in line

and here's yet another ..... priority touché

these are a few
of our bout
presentations
in phrases
and wordplay

for that
I thank you

my opponent
friend

salute and enchanté

Loss

For this weeks PT idea (dropping a line; choose a line from a poem by some one else and use it in a poem of your own), I chose our grey glacier awaits from Scotty - The Frog Prince. Thank you Scotty.

our grey glacier awaits
a ceaseless decline
of what we thought
our ennobled merit

a sudden fear for escape
in memory and reflection

for all the intricate build-up details
of whom we became
lie prominently in the past

where we no longer get to rejoice
at times of reminiscence

but now reside
in seemingly perfect peace

unaware of future truth
and present gliding loss

Goodbye

is a word spoken in silence

a wrapping up of gifts, memories

put away on shelves

in the basement of my mind

and in the years to come

you will still be my wonderful friend

to whom I raise my glass

of perfect tales to tell

bottled for reminiscence

at the day

of our final farewell

Apple pie

slowly,
he waves his treaty

one apple at a time

pie offered easily
needs no rhythm nor rhyme

name after name
(and counting)
they eat it all

expecting much of his bakery

but no one sees the cake crumble
before the stuffing falls

leaving them pulp
of putrid venom

(and me, a chance to announce: )

a flying pie wake-up call

Poetry Thursday – all about poetry

This letter was supposed to be a poem in which I wanted to explain what poetry means to me. But it's probably a bit naïve to think it would be easy to do.
I started real smart (yeah right) but soon ended up with all these questions to which I do not have the answers.
The influence of poetry is sort of a mystery to me. I guess that's the conclusion to my 'inquiry'.
Therefore the letter below is still a very rough version of something I'm not yet sure I'll ever be able to finish.

(Maybe I'd better advise to keep aspirins at hand. ;-)

Dear poet,

the slow transportation
from design
to the reader's mind
travels through the bloodstream
and the heart

connecting what
disguisingly clever
must be
irreversibly binding
from the start

this, of course, is objective; yours
mine; to observe
I am mere a willing receiver
absorbing through conduction
what's brought-on with hidden verve

but here I am
boldly wondering
at the base of my imaginary floor
examining this strange 'anomaly'
that some one I don't know
can simply walk in
without me having to answer my door

is poetry maybe best explained
as a connecting collection
of entangled thoughts
carved into exposing sculptures
in which insight and new creation
are mutually found and eagerly sought?

and is this the doorway to inspiration
a connection to either heart or head
or should it be called soul communication
embedding beautiful new memories
creating monuments
impossible to forget?

(and breath..)

Yours truly
A novice traveler you haven't met

(eagerly awaiting your insightful reply)

Poetry Thursday - More image inspiration

(Adonis and Aphrodite by Jits Bakker)

I've 'known' Jits Bakker his art for some time now and I never seem to be able to get enough of looking at it. This particular piece is one of my personal favorites. It seems complex and yet ... it makes absolute sense.

Below is the poem with which I respond to this weeks PT idea "more image inspiration". Happy PT everyone.

I have found myself in you
wrapped around and bundled in

I'm uncovered

in want
of discovery

for where do you
or I
begin

inside out we fold

and I am weak

in strength and certainty

that I will lose myself

where you are found

wrapped around

inside of me

Poetry Thursday - Image inspiration

(Sculpture of Cupid reviving Psyche with a kiss by Antonio Canova)

This week I think I cheated a bit (just a teensy bit). The moment I read the completely and totally optional idea – image inspiration, I saw a picture in my head I wanted to write down.
The picture of this wonderful sculpture I found afterwards, so it doesn't really belong to the poem but it does kinda fit.

your hands
feel restless
upon my hips

my fingers
slowly draw
the outline
of your trembling lips

cool velvet skin
in an eloquently fiery embrace

no one can call us
passive

caught forever
in amaranthines timeless gaze

Poetry Thursday – defining moments

(In short; describe a beautiful word before knowing its meaning.)

This week I thought I knew exactly what I wanted to do. I had a list of all these words I'd scribbled down while rereading Jane Austen's Persuasion; a list of words I've wanted for long to do something with and now was my chance. Hooray, this was going to be wonderful.
Or so I thought.
Turns out, when you have a long list of 'wishes' you risk turning them into Frankenstein when you start 'claying' with them all at once.
But I took the risk and I did it.
I created a monstrous glob of words.
So after some nasty swearing I wisely accepted my defeat and decided to start over and this time very modestly, with just one word. Hope it worked.

yours is a world I remember
in stasis
like slumbering primal sleep

a déjà vu
of beautiful frozen faces

memories
waiting for the thaw
anticipating to follow-up
on creation

all the while
patiently waiting

…
my hidden atavistic sensation

private dialogue

you get noticed
a scene from afar
and you know this

(no secret here)

you accept
every carver's personal scar

and although I don't regret
we're somewhere somewhat 'the same'

I bend
and change to suit the scene

where you will stick to fundamental strength
without breaking down
from excessive claim

(and there's your cause for fame)

but now I need for you to open up
and still you're standing tall

acknowledging to me
that these are just

my very inspirational
(yet rather 'eccentric')

conversations with a wall