innsomnia – Pen's Ink

Four in the Morning Whispers

You are
all of my
4 a.m. thoughts–
the weight
of your hips
against mine,
your kisses,
your scent,
the way your
chest rises
and falls beneath
my ear–
my heartbeat
whispers into
darkness,
“Come home!”

—–

AUDIO FILE:

Sleeping — After Adele, Remedy (a golden shovel poem)

Poetry

I’ve held you more closely when

the night stole your sleep, and the

thoughts in your head brought pain.

I’ve seen the way your fear cuts

your breath, and dread leaves you

staring long into the darkness, deep.

I’ve been the broken one, tired and

scared — and you have been the

rock, that sheltered me in the night.

This love we are building keeps

us stronger, together — you

and me. We are made safe from

fear that finds us peacefully sleeping.

———-

POETIC FORM:

golden shovel – Take a line (or lines) from a poem you like. Use each word as an end word in your poem. Keep the end words in order. Credit the original poet, ie. “-after (poet)”.

—–

POEM A DAY NOVEMBER 2015 – PROMPT:

For today’s prompt, write an apology poem.

For more information, check out–http://www.writersdigest.com/whats-new/2015-november-pad-chapbook-challenge-day-23

—–

AUDIO FILE:

Light and Darkness

Poetry

Late lies the wintry sun a-bed,

A frosty, fiery sleepy-head;

Blinks but an hour or two; and then,

A blood-red orange, sets again.

(excerpted from “Winter-Time” by Robert Louis Stevenson)

—–

Were it not for shadows, there would be no beauty.

(Junichiro Tanizaki)

—–

Learn to reverence night and to put away the vulgar fear of it, for, with the banishment of night from the experience of man, there vanishes as well a religious emotion, a poetic mood, which gives depth to the adventure of humanity. By day, space is one with the earth and with man — it is his sun that is shining, his clouds that are floating past; at night, space is his no more. When the great earth, abandoning day, rolls up the deeps of the heavens and the universe, a new door opens for the human spirit, and there are few so clownish that some awareness of the mystery of being does not touch them as they gaze. For a moment of night we have a glimpse of ourselves and of our world islanded in its stream of stars — pilgrims of mortality, voyaging between horizons across eternal seas of space and time. Fugitive though the instant be, the spirit of man is, during it, ennobled by a genuine moment of emotional dignity, and poetry makes its own both the human spirit and experience.

(exerpted from chapter eight of “The Outermost House”, by Henry Beston)

—–

Hello darkness, my old friend

I’ve come to talk with you again

Because a vision softly creeping

Left its seeds while I was sleeping

And the vision that was planted in my brain

Still remains

Within the sound of silence

(excerpted from The Sound of Silence, by Paul Simon)

Today is the day I will celebrate Yule, and my Winter Solstice. I have been thinking a great deal about the longer nights, the insomnia, the shadowy days, and the lack of the sun. Truth be told, I miss her light, her warmth, and on those days this month when she has shone her face and warmed me, I have made an extra effort to get outside and soak her in. I am eager to turn that corner of the longest night and head back toward the light, to chase through the woods at sunset as she sets fire to the tops of the trees, and warms my skin! But I’d be remiss if I left it at that. Because I am also the girl who loves the darkness, and welcomes the night, even the insomnia. I find it is a gift, to steal an hour or three of shadowy silence for spilling ink and writing poetry, is one of the great pleasures in my life.

Darkness intrigues me, calls to me, begs to be celebrated. I have felt this way since very early on in my adult journey into a new experience, a new identity and spirituality that was fully my own. I remember long ago reading a post on a blog by Poppy St. Vincent, about being a woman who in the spirit of Lilith, chases her own darkness… “Maybe sometimes she has children now but she has a life away from them as well. Maybe she loves but does not obey without question. Maybe she walks her own path, thinks her own thoughts; she has the distinct smell of trouble about her. Maybe she is so restless at night because she has such dreams of desire that they will not let her rest.” …it resonated with me so deeply, that I long ago wrote about it, and that call to leave the warmth of hearth and home for a while, and chase my own darkness down the shadowed paths under moonlight. It truly changed the way I identify myself. I have learned to embrace the darkness in me, and yes, to revel in it. I am both Raven and Moon. My blood runs inky, and I seek out the nights, the shadows, the forest paths where I run with my Wolf. We explore that darkness together, and yes, these things add depth, poetry, adventure and a spiritual richness, a “religious emotion” as Beston says. I am deeply fed by this act of embracing the night, and the darkness that is an intrinsic part of who I am, and how I’m made.

I have been meditating today on this longest night, and on ways to celebrate it in my own way. I will, of course, attend a small Yule celebration, and with friends and like-minded acquaintances, I will join in the ritual, light candles, make music, and welcome the light in that circle. Today alone, as I have no other day this year, I wear about my neck a chain from which is suspended a small silver charm shaped like the sun — presented to me and to all in attendance at my first Yule ritual. It seems an appropriate reminder of the light that shines in even the most troubling times, and I need that perspective. My year has had its share of heartache, and even today, I am going through a sort of darkness that I do not relish, do not chase. I am comforted knowing that it will not always be so dark as it is now in that sense. I recall for myself in these ways the truth that light is coming.

Still, my desire is to embrace that light while also honoring the darkness… like a chunk of snowflake obsidian I carry in my pocket some days, light and dark in the same small space, both creating beauty. I will carry that stone with me tonight, and I will spend some time in the wee hours, reveling in the absence of light. I will turn off my electronics, my light bulbs, blow out my candles. I will breathe and be grateful for the shadows in my life that define beauty, and provide contrast to the brightness. I will relish the stillness, the sound of silence, the quiet of four in the morning — and after a while, I will light a solitary candle, and I will write. I will do what I was made to do, what is in my blood, and bones and DNA. I’ll spill ebony ink onto my pages, to remind me that darkness too, is truly my old friend.

Sleep is for the Birds — After Rod Stewart, Maggie May (a golden shovel poem)

Poetry

I wonder when it is that you wake —

and ponder what it is that keeps you up.

I am Rod Stewart’s Maggie,

lying — asleep, beside you. I

will while away nights — I think

— until I stir and meet your eyes. I

think you’re used to this — you’ve got

a rapport with 4:00 a.m. Something

I wish I knew, and don’t envy you — to

eat the night as I drink death’s sleep. You say

you’ll sleep when you’re dead. I’d like to

think I’d like the solitude. I could share with you.

———-

POETIC FORM

golden shovel – Take a line (or lines) from a poem you like. Use each word as an end word in your poem. Keep the end words in order. Credit the original poet, ie. “-after (poet)”.

—–

POEM A DAY NOVEMBER 2015 – PROMPT:

For today’s prompt, it’s time for another Two-for-Tuesday prompt.

Here are your options:

Take the phrase “Ode to a (blank),” replace the blank with a word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write your poem.
Take the phrase “(blank) is for the Birds,” replace the blank with a word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write your poem.

For more information, check out–http://www.writersdigest.com/whats-new/2015-november-pad-chapbook-challenge-day-17.

—–

AUDIO FILE:

Sinner — after Hozier, Someone New (a golden shovel poem)

Poetry

It’s four o’clock in the morning, I

know the hour, before I wake.

The beating of my heart, at

this familiar darkness will be the

penance to open my eyes — the first

groaning prayer of my day. I won’t cringe.

I shall not moan over tired bones or lack of

sleep, I’ll flood this night-filled morning

with words, kneel before it with ache and

ink. I’ll spill this blood to write my

pain across the sacred page, until my heart’s

low hymn becomes an echo — already

chanting, rhythmic cries of sins I’ve sinned.

———-

POETIC FORM

golden shovel – Take a line (or lines) from a poem you like. Use each word as an end word in your poem. Keep the end words in order. Credit the original poet, ie. “-after (poet)”.

POEM A DAY NOVEMBER 2015 – PROMPT:

For today’s prompt, write a mistake poem.

For more information, check out– http://www.writersdigest.com/whats-new/2015-november-pad-chapbook-challenge-day-9.

A Moon-Flower Nest

Poetry

She’s a blackbird perched in shadow
of a fragrant moonflower vine,
as dawn bruises the horizon
like the blush of cherry wine.

She’s been sitting through the darkness
breathing in the sweet perfume
of moonflowers blooming gently
by the light of lady moon.

Stretching tendrils have been reaching
toward the raven, slowly curling,
and her ruffled, ragged feathers
are becalmed by scent unfurling.

Soon the vine speaks, voice entreating,
“Trust me, I will be your nest.
You can stay until you’re ready
for the blue skies — come and rest.”

Battle Weary

Poetry

Maybe I’m naive.
Maybe I’m ink
and emotion and
too much trust,
too little guarded.

Maybe love isn’t pure,
can’t be, maybe
I’m bleeding
all over this floor.
Maybe I’m just tired.

Maybe I’m lost and
maybe everything
gets diluted, deluded
by reality. Do you really
belive in magic?

Because maybe
I’ve been up all night
arguing with my doubts.

Bohemian (a conceptual poem)

Poetry

There are times I feel the need
to cry out in the night —
making noise fill the whole bed
with the roots of language,
the struggling impression of fury,
an owl that nightly hoots and wonders.

There are times I feel the need
to find my gypsy spirit —
Her feet never stay in my house,
foolish and unruly woman,
once free to wander aimlessly
in another part of the wood.

There are times I feel the need
to center myself —
a transfigured turbulent river,
the shadow inside me
grows faint with wandering,
longs to find the way home,
to clamber up its wooden stairs
and again greet the light.

—–

POETIC FORM: A conceptual Poem

—–

PROMPT:

To earn the “On Demand” badge, start by coming up with an unlikely word combination. You can make up your own, choose words at random from a source text, or use a generator like the one at JimPix (http://jimpix.co.uk/words/random-username-generator.asp) to come up with your words. Examples: Foolish Ninja, Calamitous Rock, Hurry Pork, Jugular Magnet.
Visit Google (http://www.google.com) and do a search on your chosen word combination (no quotes around the terms). Google will display a list of pages, as well as short descriptions for each site. Compose a poem using only these page titles and short descriptions — do not click into the sites themselves to grab more text. You can use multiple pages of search results if necessary. Post your poem to the site and cite your word combination at the bottom of your post.
—–

PoMoSco (Poetry Month Scouts)
Found Poetry Review’s 2015 National Poetry Month Project

– April 2015 – 213 poets joined together as a troop to earn digital merit badges for completing experimental and found poetry prompts.
– Prompts are divided into five categories – remixing, erasure, out and about, conceptual and chance operation.
– Each category offers six distinct badges to be earned.
– Poets choose their own source text.
– For more information, check out pomosco.com.

A dear friend and fabulous poet, Von Thompson, is a participant. When she told me about the challenge, I decided to play along at home.

—–

SOURCE: word combination: clamorous wandering

Panic (an out-and-about poem)

Poetry

My thoughts are warning sirens
spinning faster until I lose my grip
on words that no one else has used.

I find that calm spot,
then without warning — claustrophobia.
I’m out of control again.

I’m beautiful but deadly,
swirling, whirling, snapping,
circular winds uprooting trees.

I am rain-wrapped twists and turns
a starving demon-woman
breaking glass, taking cover.

In the eerie, quiet aftermath,
of new beginning,
I feel unsettled, unknowing —

scattered memories:
clean sheets
striped socks

a cat shivering
on my lap
and debris

in
my
wake

—–

POETIC FORM: An out-and-about Poem

—–

PROMPT:

To earn the “Crowdsource” badge, pick a public place with a lot of foot traffic. Select a concrete noun (e.g. tree, wax, mouse, window). Hold or display a sign inviting the public to contribute their definitions of the word or talk about what they think about when they hear that word; alternately, walk around and ask random people to contribute. Collect a minimum of ten definitions, and use those words to write your poem. Do not include the chosen noun anywhere in the poem’s body or title. Cite your collection method, location and chosen word at the bottom of your post.
—–

PoMoSco (Poetry Month Scouts)
Found Poetry Review’s 2015 National Poetry Month Project

A dear friend and fabulous poet, Von Thompson, is a participant. When she told me about the challenge, I decided to play along at home.

—–

SOURCE: Facebook Friends

Raving Mad (an erasure poem)

Poetry

I suppose
I’m mad.
I haven’t
been
yet.

You’ll see
me
vanish.

Queer
things happen
while
I just turn
and

vanish
again.

After
a minute
or two
before
will be much

the most
interesting
and raving
mad–

at least
it was
as again
I wish.

appearing
and vanishing
so suddenly
make one
quite
giddy.

Beginning
with the end
and ending
some time
after.

—–

POETIC FORM: An Erasure Poem

—–

PROMPT:

To earn the “Cut It Out” badge, start with an X ACTO knife, box cutter or other cutting device. Find a text you don’t mind cutting up — or make a photocopy of the text if necessary — and physically cut out the unused portions to create an erasure poem. Watch James W. Moore’s video, “Making Heaven,” which captures his process of creating poems using this approach: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4FAxSv1sZOs&list=UUMgTlLB9YpdkRZHiX3zOo3g&feature=share&index=2 Scan your completed work — or take a picture of it — and upload it to the site. Cite your source text at the bottom of your post.

—–

PoMoSco (Poetry Month Scouts)
Found Poetry Review’s 2015 National Poetry Month Project

A dear friend and fabulous poet, Von Thompson, is a participant. When she told me about the challenge, I decided to play along at home.

—–

SOURCE TEXT: Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll

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