A Key

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She’s a complicated
tangle of time,
a gypsy entourage,
and a traveling circus
all tied up in bows,
with hair that smells like
the autumn wind.
She’s the queen of cups —
she knows it, owns it.
You may watch her
from across the room
and feel like a thousand
moths to a flame,
but you’ll never unlock
her Pandora’ box
unless you’re someone
she offers a key.

The Wall I Wasn’t Seeking (a rondel poem)

boulders

You may be the boulder, below
and the wall I wasn’t seeking.
I perhaps am the poem speaking
these rhymes which you do not yet know.
 
You may be the wind, howling low,
and I, the tree branches creaking.
You may be the boulder below
and the wall I wasn’t seeking.
 
I hear distant calls from the crow
as the moon through clouds is peeking, 
I do have a growing feeling.
Though I honestly don’t yet know,
you may be the boulder below.
 
POETIC FORM: Rondel

A French form, similar to the rondeau and the triolet, consisting of 13 eight-syllable lines in three stanzas.
Rhyme scheme = ABba/abAB/abbaA

Gears (a triolet poem)

clocks

 

“You prefer not to see the gears of the clock, as to better tell time.”

― Erin MorgensternThe Night Circus

You prefer not to see the gears of the clock
— as to better tell the time.
You guard the magic, turn a key in the lock.
You prefer not to see the gears of the clock.
You’d rather imagine, than to take full stock,
to live life with more whimsy than rhyme.
You prefer not to see the gears of the clock
— as to better tell the time.

POETIC FORM: TRIOLET
The triolet (TREE-o-LAY), has 13th century French roots linked to the rondeau or “round” poem. An 8-line poem, in which the first line is used 3 times and the second line is used twice. There are 3 other lines 2 of which rhyme with the first line, the other rhymes with the second line.
DIAGRAM:
A (first line)
B (second line)
a (rhymes with first line)
A (repeat first line)
a (rhymes with first line)
b (rhymes with second line)
A (repeat first line)
B (repeat second line)
For more information on this form, check out Poetic Asides.

 

Only Alice Knows (a triolet)

butterflies

I’m keeping butterflies in my hat–
the wonder is mine, for now.
Maybe you can understand that?
I’m keeping butterflies in my hat,
smiling like that Cheshire cat.
A little madness, we should allow.
I’m keeping butterflies in my hat–
the wonder is mine, for now.

POETIC FORM: TRIOLET

The triolet (TREE-o-LAY), has 13th century French roots linked to the rondeau or “round” poem. An 8-line poem, in which the first line is used 3 times and the second line is used twice. There are 3 other lines 2 of which rhyme with the first line, the other rhymes with the second line.

DIAGRAM:
A (first line)
B (second line)
a (rhymes with first line)
A (repeat first line)
a (rhymes with first line)
b (rhymes with second line)
A (repeat first line)
B (repeat second line)
For more information on this form, check out Poetic Asides.

This Kiss

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there’s this kiss
lingers on these lips
tugs this smile
clouds this mind
like a jar of fireflies
on this summer night

POETIC FORM: SHARDORMA

Shardorma is a Spanish 6-line syllabic poem of 3/5/3/3/7/5 syllable lines respectively. – See more at: http://www.writersdigest.com/editor-blogs/poetic-asides/poets/shadorma-a-highly-addictive-poetic-form-from-spain#sthash.bn2uFi5o.dpuf

Strength

“A story just isn’t a story without a dragon.”
H.B. Bolton

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I have a dragon who loves me.

He is fierce, protective, and strong, often quiet and brooding. He watched me for months, smiling wryly when I flirted, his gaze sometimes burning, sometimes distant and always thoughtful. He flirted back, and yet has not been easy to read. I have been intrigued by his quiet and patient nature, and the way he captures my attention. He is a mystery, and he looks at me as though I might be magic.

I am.

“I believe in magic. Writing is my magic wand, and through my magic I create my own secret world, away from all these worries and responsibilities. Love, honesty and humanity is essential to enter this beautiful world of magic. I dwell among White magical peacocks, glowing unicorns, fire breathing turquoise dragons, talking trees, flying horses, talking wise jackals and wolves, crystal water falls, secret pathways hidden in urban gardens and books with doorways to secret worlds. You need to believe in magic to experience it.”                              ― Ama H.Vanniarachchy

Our courtship has been unconventional, and that’s fine by me. We’ve chosen to embark on this journey of learning about each other, trusting and celebrating the good things in life. He is family, as are his wife and his son. I am amazed by that depth of love and connection with each of them. In many ways he is simply a solid, strong presence in my world, who makes me laugh, and treats me well, cherishes me, encourages me, believes in me. I feel the dragon heart beating beneath the surface of his tough exterior, and I know that there’s nothing he would not do to see me smile. He has a strong sense of honor, of right and wrong. I admire that about him.

dragonandgirlmude (2)

Vastness

For small creatures such as we the vastness is bearable only through love. – Carl Sagan

skycouple

I have a lover who stargazes with me.

We began our journey under a crescent moon, and stumbled our way to the full, in a pool beneath the night sky. Ever since those first encounters, we’ve been wandering in an ocean of magical light and energy, marveling at stardust, enthralled by the moon in all her prowess. He gazes at me, as I breathe in the night, and he turns his face to the heavens, squeezes my fingers in his, as the wonder of eternity unfolds before us. He believes we are made of star-stuff, and inhales that vastness with me. He and I are similar, in this view of the universe. I knew it the moment I listened to the first song he sent me. “A Thousand Years” by Sting very much took my breath.

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This love we share is full of mystery, galaxies unfolding in my head. He is a musician, an artist, a bohemian spirit with his own unique way of thinking, loving, living. I am a poet girl, artist, barefoot gypsy dreamer. We are like a window opening on the great wide expanse that is the night sky, and when I think I’m beginning to understand, the world tilts, the moon slips behind a cloud, and the window closes. The more we unwind, the more mystery I find.

From the first time we met, there has been this resonance between us. He reminds me, more than ever, to turn my face upward, and note what small creatures we truly are. Still, to be so small, we are not insignificant. We have power, and influence, as the tiniest pebble upon the surface of an ocean. We create ripples, we have energy, we make a difference. We make art, music, poetry, and love.

This week, I found again a favorite poem by Rainer Maria Rilke:

Overflowing heavens of squandered stars
flame brilliantly above your troubles. Instead
of into your pillows, weep up toward them.
There, at the already weeping, at the ending visage,
slowly thinning out, ravishing
worldspace begins. Who will interrupt,
once you force your way there,
the current? No one. You may panic,
and fight that overwhelming course of stars
that streams toward you. Breathe.
Breathe the darkness of the earth and again
look up! Again. Lightly and facelessly
depths lean toward you from above. The serene
countenance dissolved in night makes room for you.

–Rainer Maria Rilke, Paris, April 1913, 
from _Uncollected poems_ selected and translated
by Edward Snow New York : North Point Press, 1996

The very idea that the overwhelming vastness of space — those depths lean in, making room for our gaze, our face, our presence — this is the wonder that takes my breath and prompts me to reach for his hand.

Depths

“…to slip beneath the surface and soar along the silent bottom of the sea agile and shining in water honeycombed with light.”
Ellen Meloy

 

mermaidstwo (2)

I have a girlfriend, and that for me is an amazing thing, for I have yet to explore such a relationship successfully, and I have so longed to try again.

We started as friends over coffee, and a mug with three hearts lent itself to our discussion of polyamory, and the joys of loving more than one, then we found ourselves falling in love with each other’s spouses, and celebrating that incredible metamour-hood and sister-ship. The more we trusted, sharing from our hearts and becoming vulnerable with each other, the more our hearts became entwined like flowering vines. Though we are both a bit afraid this deep sapphire ocean is full of sharks, we have found ourselves repeatedly taking each other’s hand, holding our breath and diving into the depths.

mermaid nin (2)

This new love we share feels like uncharted territory for me, and I keep reminding myself to come up for air, to breathe, and not panic. She is beautiful, and sweet, a poet and dreamer who loves deeply and wears her heart on her sleeve, like me. Her smile lights her eyes, and the feel of her hand in mine is the softest, gentlest thing I have felt in a very long time. She speaks truth to my heart, and loves my husband, my family, and makes room for me to love her husband and family, as well.

She is courageous, and intelligent, fiercely diligent at the task of being her very best self, a loving and generous partner to her loves, and a supportive friend to those who surround her life. She reminds me to be brave, and to trust myself. She believes in magic, that we are mermaids, and that this vast ocean of wonders is ours to explore. I think she’s right about that.

“If you swim effortlessly in the deep oceans, ride the waves to and from the shore, if you can breathe under water and dine on the deep treasures of the seas; mark my words, those who dwell on the rocks carrying nets will try to reel you into their catch. The last thing they want is for you to thrive in your habitat because they stand in their atmosphere where they beg and gasp for some air.”
C. JoyBell C.

I am blessed to share this wide ocean with her, and to call her my sister, my friend, and my sweet, darling girlfriend.

Waterhouse_a_mermaid

When We Met Pluto (a nonet poem)

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I carry a photo of Pluto
tucked away inside my pocket
corners creased, colors fading
it reminds me of you
on the day we met
her, hand in hand
gazing at
the night
sky

POETIC FORM: NONET
a 9-line poem that has 9 syllables in the first line, 8 syllables in the second line, 7 syllables in the third line, and continues to count down to 1 syllable in the final (9th) line.