Come Rain

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Come rain.
Wash these tear stains 
from the windows of my heart,
so I might see
through the blur —
clouds that cover,
comfort me.
For just an hour
— or four — hide me
from the sun.
Let me stand,
wet and shivering, but alive
beneath your skies?
Come rain.

—–

AUDIO FILE:

Listen to Come Rain by Penelope Connor #np on #SoundCloud

Siren Song

match

 

Your ears ring with amber warnings
as the western horizon pulses orange.
The eastern sky wears a shroud of haze.

Dancing widdershins ’round the house,
The wind chants incantations through cracks,
spills in smoky pools beneath the doors.

These walls and floors breathe in —
barrel-chested men with wet burlap
fists — breathe out, beating back flames.

You lean against the upstairs window
silhouetted by sunset scorching distant hills.
Copper flames reel and stagger in your eyes.

When you turn to me, they sear my skin.
All the heat in my body rises meeting yours —
and invites you, with ink-singed fingers:

Come lie with me, as our flesh burns.
Let smoke fill your lungs, clear your head
of the spinning vertigo that haunts your soul.

 

—–

 

AUDIO FILE:

 

First Touch (a repost)

 

 

I’ve spent the past several days in the hospital with a partner. She is doing well, and we’re narrowing in on what the non-life threatening problem actually is. However, as a result, I will be re-posting a couple of previous poems this week. I hope you enjoy!

From February, 2015

———-

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The way your hand makes love to mine —
as though we’ve both been here before,
(perhaps a different life we wore?)
our palms just like the stars align!

Your touch is warm and your eyes shine!
Two dancers swaying on the floor:
the way your hand makes love to mine —
as though we’ve both been here before.

Our fingers and our souls entwine,
the way the sea kisses the shore.
Your gaze becomes an open door,
intoxicating as the wine —
the way your hand makes love to mine.

—–

POETIC FORM:  RONDEL

13 lines in 3 stanzas; rhyme scheme: ABba/abAB/abbaA (uppercase letters are refrains) Usually 8 syllables per line.

 

Dry Spell (a re-post)

I’ve spent the past several days in the hospital with a partner. She is doing well, and we’re narrowing in on what the non-life threatening problem actually is. However, as a result, I will be re-posting a couple of previous poems this week. I hope you enjoy!

From February, 2015

———-

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I wrap myself in rain soaked sheets,
my skin well drenched in poet’s ink.
Words drip from fingers, lashes, hair,
although the squall line’s past, I think.

A rolling thunder echoes now.
Tempted I am, to seed the sky —
(I feel it in my skin, my bones.)
to dance a prayer against the dry.

To gauge the weather, test the air —
while rushing winds in whispered voice
make promises of darker clouds —
for instruments — I have one choice:

I’ll take my pen, write rhymes in form.
hold back the sun, bring on the storm.

 

—–

Pack

fourmountainfriends

There’s a wolf at my back —
bristling fur, thick and black, and she
lends her power to me.
At my side, you will see a bear —
shoulders strong — fierce, dark stare.
Nearby too, see her there — she is
lioness, courageous —
my friend. She loves my mess as though
it was her own, I know.
We stand. We fight. We grow — as one.
We’ll climb until we’re done,
and stand there in the sun. We’ll dance,
unbowed by circumstance.
No foe with sword or lance – could stop
our progress to the top.
Our gaze need never drop — our pride,
found only in our stride.
In love we are allied, and strong.
To us we each belong —
our truth is now the song of pack.

—-

POETIC FORM:

luc bat – (vietnamese “six-eight”) Alternating lines of 6 and 8 syllables. The rhyme scheme renews at the end of every 8-syllable line and rhymes on the 6th syllable of both lines. No set length or subject matter.

—–

FORM DIAGRAM:

xxxxxA
xxxxxAxB
xxxxxB
xxxxxBxC
xxxxxC
xxxxxCxD
xxxxxD
xxxxxDxA

—–

AUDIO FILE:

advice from e.e. cummings

climbing

*on a day when i face my climb alone,
a beloved poem by e.e cummings
can say everything i need to hear.
this is my response:

advice from e.e. cummings

run to the woods
for the sun is warm
he said, “trees are their roots
and wind is wind’

so, when you feel alone
climbing your mountain
you can “trust your heart
if the seas catch fire”

you’re surrounded by strength
you are loved by many,
so “live by love
though the stars walk backward”

the words of a fool
will lose their power in truth
while you ‘dance your death
away at this wedding’

———-

AUDIO FILE:

A Promise (a sestina)

contract

I think I’ve known you for eternity:
since I was young, hunger ever growing,
and when my eyes met yours, the deal was signed.
I fell headlong, my happy fate was sealed!
I’m in this life with you until I die.
I stand beside you stronger, filled with pride.
 
I’ve had a life that taught me of self-pride.
I’ve stretched and loved, eyes on eternity.
I hope that I am known, the day I die,
for a passionate love, always growing.
I made the choice to pour my heart, unsealed,
and take the risk for each connection signed.
 
The road has not been easy, or well signed.
I’ve been detoured by pain and my own pride.
I’m sure by fear often my lips were sealed.
Unspoken words can frame eternity —
but I’ve learned lessons, and done some growing.
I’ve suffered loss, and thought my heart would die.
 
Today I don’t fear risk, I roll the die.
I gamble and I pay the debts I’ve signed.
I’m still here, winning, losing and growing.
Beside me, I hope you can stand with pride.
I will give love — promise eternity.
I’ll write the words, and send the pledges sealed.
 
I’ll take my chances, see the bargain sealed,
to find such happiness before I die.
The love we share will light eternity,
and point the way down that road poorly signed.
There is a cause for joy, a simple pride
in finding in your eyes, a love growing.
 
I won’t lie, I see your love is growing.
It burns, within my sacred soul is sealed.
I’d stand, or sit or kneel by you with pride.
Believe in truth our love will never die!
This promise on your soul my heart has signed:
I’m bound to you beyond eternity —
 
granted our eternity, with growing
awe I have signed, and ecstasy has sealed,
this promise till I die, to love with pride.
 
POETIC FORM:
 
Sestina: You pick 6 words, rotate them as the end words in 6 stanzas and then include 2 per of the words per line in your final stanza.
 
EXAMPLE:
 
from Robert Lee Brewer’s Poetic Asides Blog:
 
Let’s pick 6 random words: bears, carving, dynamite, hunters, mothers, blessing.

Here’s how the end words would go:

Stanza 1
Line 1-bears (A)
Line 2-carving (B)
Line 3-dynamite (C)
Line 4-hunters (D)
Line 5-mothers (E)
Line 6-blessing (F)

Stanza 2
Line 7-blessing (F)
Line 8-bears (A)
Line 9-mothers (E)
Line 10-carving (B)
Line 11-hunters (D)
Line 12-dynamite (C)

Stanza 3
Line 13-dynamite (C)
Line 14-blessing (F)
Line 15-hunters (D)
Line 16-bears (A)
Line 17-carving (B)
Line 18-mothers (E)

Stanza 4
Line 19-mothers (E)
Line 20-dynamite (C)
Line 21-carving (B)
Line 22-blessing (F)
Line 23-bears (A)
Line 24-hunters (D)

Stanza 5
Line 25-hunters (D)
Line 26-mothers (E)
Line 27-bears (A)
Line 28-dynamite (C)
Line 29-blessing (F)
Line 30-carving (B)

Stanza 6
Line 31-carving (B)
Line 32-hunters (D)
Line 33-blessing (F)
Line 34-mothers (E)
Line 35-dynamite (C)
Line 36-bears (A)

Stanza 7
Line 37-bears (A), carving (B)
Line 38-dynamite (C), hunters (D)
Line 39-mothers (E), blessing (F)

Stronger

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I trust you
you make my truth safe
share your fears
hold me close
you show me my mess is yours
and your strength is mine

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

AUDIO FILE:

I am the Hollow

wordbowl

My flesh is a bowl
— words dripping
from the brim.

I am the place
where words breathe,
beat as a pumping heart.

I am a cavern —
empty, and full of
echoes and bodies,

spilling out words.
They cry in pain,
dance in celebration.

I am where words go
— to mingle, and to flirt
— to kiss, and to fuck.

I am the hollow,
and I am the spoon,
dipping out language.

I am white linen —
a bed dampened
by the sweat of ink.

I am the cup —
words — the elixir,
the heat and the cool,

from which a soul sips
reason or rhyme–
sometimes both.

I am the sanctuary
where verses pray,
incantations rising.

I watch them slip through
cracked, stained glass
— a poem taking wing.

———-

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