Belief (a quatern)

wolfandwoman

I do believe in wolves, it’s true.
It may not seem that much to you:
to say the truth that I’ve come to
— is that they love like very few.

And when I say — like it is new —
that I believe a wolf is true,
I’m speaking of a person, who
has a wolf-heart, of truest hue.

She looks at me like she could chew
right through my skin. She will pursue!
Oh, I believe she’ll catch me — true.
It’s in her eyes. I’m in her view.

But she’ll defend me, jump into
whatever fight some fool calls due.
She’s fierce and strong. It’s time you knew.
— I do believe in wolves, it’s true.

—–

POETIC FORM: QUATERN

16 lines broken up into 4 quatrains (or 4-line stanzas). Each line is comprised of 8 syllables. 1st line is the refrain (R). In the 2nd stanza, the refrain appears in the 2nd line; in the 3rd stanza, the 3rd line; in the 4th stanza, the 4th (and final) line. There are no rules for rhyming or iambics.

AUDIO FILE:

Your Eyes (a quatern)

blue-eyed-woman-wallpaper-2

There’s a wolf behind your blue eyes —
I see her there, past the disguise.
These waves of lust my soul capsize,
and none can hear my alarmed cries!

I’ve found to my own soul’s surprise —
That there’s a wolf behind your eyes.
To look away would be unwise.
And so I stare — and analyze.

I feel my hunger paralyze.
This ache it seems is emphasized,
by the wolf-stare — behind your eyes.
I can’t take flight, or find the skies.

My wings they twitch, and long to rise.
and yet, I know you — my demise.
I’ll dance with pain and agonize,
to feed the wolf in your blue eyes.

—–

POETIC FORM: QUATERN
16 lines broken up into 4 quatrains (or 4-line stanzas). Each line is comprised of 8 syllables. 1st line is the refrain (R). In the 2nd stanza, the refrain appears in the 2nd line; in the 3rd stanza, the 3rd line; in the 4th stanza, the 4th (and final) line. There are no rules for rhyming or iambics.

AUDIO FILE:

Carnivore (a quatern)

hungrywolf (2)

There’s something fierce, inside my head.
It keeps me restless in my bed.
My mind is dangling by a thread —
a monster clamors to be fed.

My skin is crawling, flushed and red.
a hunger cries, inside my head —
it sears my thoughts, like white hot lead.
It calls all night, like books unread.

I need to be consumed and bled,
to slake my thirst — don’t be misled!
It’s fierce — this urge, inside my head.
I’ve trembled, and my needs I’ve pled–

I’ve longed for you, here in my bed.
I wake and ache, alone instead.
Come find me here, as I have said —
and meet this beast, inside my head.

—–

POETIC FORM: QUATERN

16 lines broken up into 4 quatrains (or 4-line stanzas). Each line is comprised of 8 syllables. 1st line is the refrain (R). In the 2nd stanza, the refrain appears in the 2nd line; in the 3rd stanza, the 3rd line; in the 4th stanza, the 4th (and final) line. There are no rules for rhyming or iambics.

AUDIO FILE:

Love Songs (a somonka)

windowmorning

 

The sun is singing
love songs outside my window.
The trees join in,
harmonizing in the breeze.
Can you hear them, where you are?

The songs you’re hearing,
I whispered to the morning
— sent them to you on
the wings of a small blackbird
— cries, of my lust and wanting.

—–

POETIC FORM:

The somonka is a Japanese form. In fact, it’s basically two tankas written as two love letters to each other (one tanka per love letter). This form usually demands two authors, but it is possible to have a poet take on two personas. Click here for a refresher on the tanka.

AUDIO FILE:

Wolf-Bite (a somonka)

wolfteeth

I have been bitten.
My skin is raging with fire.
My mind is burning.
Your teeth are my true weakness.
I am desperate for them.

I long to taste you.
My teeth need to sink into
the softness of flesh.
My ears need to hear your cries.
I must very soon be fed.

—–

POETIC FORM:

The somonka is a Japanese form. In fact, it’s basically two tankas written as two love letters to each other (one tanka per love letter). This form usually demands two authors, but it is possible to have a poet take on two personas. Click here for a refresher on the tanka.

AUDIO FILE:

Insistent Moon

Full_moon_tonight_by_The_Dark_Silhouette

Full Moon Tonight by The Dark Silhouette

 

I woke missing you,
the moon’s face in my window.
Did she let you sleep?
Or were you awake, like me —
thinking of the way we kiss?

I could not find sleep.
Staring into the darkness,
the moon tapping on
my window, in the wee hours.
I imagined you with me.

—–

POETIC FORM:

The somonka is a Japanese form. In fact, it’s basically two tankas written as two love letters to each other (one tanka per love letter). This form usually demands two authors, but it is possible to have a poet take on two personas. Click here for a refresher on the tanka.

AUDIO FILE:

Full Crow Moon – a repost

Due to a death in the family, today’s post and tomorrow’s will be re-blogs from last year. I hope you enjoy. I’ll be back next week.

—–

Full Crow Moon – Instagram Poetry

oh3oh6one5 (2)

candle flame beckons
on the window sill
to the full moon
perched in the tree

bathing bare
in the mirror of light
I whisper to her
my questions

she folds me
in wings of darkness
smiling silent answers

———-

@ConnorPenelope on Instagram

Your Indecision – a repost

Due to a death in the family, today’s post and tomorrow’s will be re-blogs from last year. I hope you enjoy. I’ll be back next week.

—–

Your Indecision – Instagram Poetry (a cento poem)

wpid-2015-03-09-12.49.48.jpg.jpeg

 

I’m not the girl to just cry wolf.
You question everything — and nothing.
We both wonder — and wander,
as free as the wind in the tree.
You are the moon and I, the magnetic sea;
will you get lost in the mystery of me?
Like a traveling gypsy have you found
a desirable home for the night ahead?

You stare into my eyes a little too much,

for I am the question mark — the answer.
If walls spoke mine would whisper.
Raised in a garden, I grew up a wildflower.

I am a wildfire — and you may well be

the matchstick that sets me off.
Have you ever pressed your lips to a flame
I can make you feel like a moth.
Like a loose thread waiting to be pulled,
you taunt me, hanging in your indecision.
Yes, my chaos is loud, but I don’t know
how to live (or love) any other way.

———-

POETIC FORM: CENTO

A poem composed of lines from other poets’ poems.
(http://www.poets.org/poetsorg/text/poetic-form-cento)

THANK YOU TO – #poetsofinstagram:
@ntrldisaster, @romance_blows, @soulsandstardust, @ghoshbaba, @a.cup.full.of.poems, @inthegardenwild, @vav.ava, @imlightbulb, @momentsgone91221, @craig.t.rudge, @highpoetssociety, @papercrumbs, @wanderlustpoet, @tdj.poetry, @jbsuperman

—–

@ConnorPenelope on Instagram

Wading

sunsetonwatermohawk (2)

The woods were calling.

I sat at at the feet of my Wolf, with tears in my eyes, at having received unexpected news of loss. My heart was spilling over with sorrow, and I could only think of running to the trees. So she took me by the hand, and wiped tears from my eyes. She drove to our favorite set of trails, and let me lead the way. We hiked along, through wet grass and slippery mud as we made our way deeper into the wooded area and turned the corner to a favorite path — one that’s been under water  for months.

Accompanied by the frenzied calls of geese and ducks from the nearby marsh, we stepped from the planked walkway into ankle deep water feeling the mud suck and grasp at our boots. Sticking to the center of the path, or the edges, depending on the depth, she splashed along beside me, softly speaking words of love and encouragement, with a smile in her voice.

We waded.

And we talked, about the sorrow of losing a man who has loved me since the day I was born — he was one of the few people in this life I can say that about — and the sudden absence of his presence in this world was a reality I was struggling to absorb. But the woods and the water were soothing. Placing my hands against tree trunks was comforting, and the sound of her voice made it easier to breathe.

The sky overhead was dark, overcast by clouds that promised rain, but held off for reasons unknown. The sun would set in an hour, and the sounds of ducks and geese in preparation for this nightly event filled my ears. Finally, I found the place I’d been longing for since that morning — a stone bench surrounded by trees, deep enough in the woods that I knew I’d see wildlife, if only we were still for a little while.

I sat, and she stood — leaning against a nearby trunk, listening while I shared with her what was on my heart. As I wound down, and fell into thought, they came. First, it was two young deer, who stopped in the nearby copse of trees and stared at me, ears twitching, and bodies perfectly still. The near one and I gazed into each other’s eyes for several long moments, in silent conversation. Then the birds began to call from the tops of the trees, a woodpecker worked steadily in the distance, and briefly, a very large and beautiful brown owl graced us with a silent, overhead flight.

I breathed in these gifts of presence, and pointed out each of them to her, as she watched me. At one point she asked me to do her a favor, and it was really a gift she was giving to me. At her request, I chose a song (the one that had been in my heart all morning, since I’d heard the news) and queued it on my phone. She stepped away, wet, rippling, water sounds following her, as she retreated to some not-too-distant place behind my back, and left me alone in my sanctuary.

I pressed my boots into the sludge and water at my feet, imagining the mud between my toes as I grounded myself. I took a deep breath, before slipping my ear buds into my ears, and starting the song. I sobbed, breathed deeply, and let the words wash over me… just as the sun broke through the clouds over my left shoulder, and cast its reflection into the water at my feet like a blanket.

I cried until I  felt I could breathe again – thankful for this quiet, sacred space, and for a Wolf who would watch over me as I got lost in it. The song was set to repeat, and when it began again, I took another, deeper breath, and sang it aloud — to the trees, to the distant deer and the birds overhead, to the wet earth, the water and the sunlight pooling at my feet. I sang aloud, not caring who might hear, or how it might sound. It was my declaration and my prayer. The well of emotion in me surged, and I rode the wave, singing triumphantly,  in gratitude.

As the last notes faded, the beautiful sun pulled her blanket of cloud cover back over her shoulders and ducked toward the horizon. I watched for a moment, then stood slowly to my feet. I put away my phone, and gathered myself, turning to find my Wolf sitting not ten steps away, smiling softly at me. She took me by the hand and together we walked through the water, through the trees, and the fading sunlight — finding our way back to dry land.

—–

Boots

image

I love the sound
of her boots
on the hardwoods–
the echo that says,
“It’s a workday morning,
and I may be leaving
but I hope you’re here
when I get home.”

—–

AUDIO FILE: