Hiding – a Blackout Poem

solace

We are ourselves,
in necessary time
–the virtuoso quiet
of an internal pulse,

underestimated–
until we grow ready,
for the names
that have caught us.

We have been too easily
seen and too easily named.
We live in a time of
imaginings and longings–

too much, too often
— squeezed into
our sense of self,
our sense of others.

What is real is almost
always precious,
does not care to be known
with no place to hide.

A creeping necessity,
creative and subversive,
leaves life to itself
–to become solace.

—–

SOURCE TEXT:

HIDING is a way of staying alive. Hiding is a way of holding ourselves until we are ready to come into the light. Even hiding the truth from ourselves can be a way to come to what we need in our own necessary time. Hiding is one of the brilliant and virtuoso practices of almost every part of the natural world: the protective quiet of an icy northern landscape, the held bud of a future summer rose, the snow bound internal pulse of the hibernating bear. Hiding is underestimated. We are hidden by life in our mother’s womb until we grow and ready ourselves for our first appearance in the lighted world; to appear too early in that world is to find ourselves with the immediate necessity for outside intensive care. Hiding done properly is the internal faithful promise for a proper future emergence, as embryos, as children or even as emerging adults in retreat from the names that have caught us and imprisoned us, often in ways where we have been too easily seen and too easily named. We live in a time of the dissected soul, the immediate disclosure; our thoughts, imaginings and longings exposed to the light too much, too early and too often, our best qualities squeezed too soon into a world already awash with too easily articulated ideas that oppress our sense of self and our sense of others. What is real is almost always to begin with, hidden, and does not want to be understood by the part of our mind that mistakenly thinks it knows what is happening. What is precious inside us does not care to be known by the mind in ways that diminish its presence. Hiding is an act of freedom from the misunderstanding of others, especially in the enclosing world of oppressive secret government and private entities, attempting to name us, to anticipate us, to leave us with no place to hide and grow in ways unmanaged by a creeping necessity for absolute naming, absolute tracking and absolute control. Hiding is a bid for independence, from others, from mistaken ideas we have about our selves, from an oppressive and mistaken wish to keep us completely safe, completely ministered to, and therefore completely managed. Hiding is creative, necessary and beautifully subversive of outside interference and control. Hiding leaves life to itself, to become more of itself. Hiding is the radical independence necessary for our emergence into the light of a proper human future.

… Excerpted from ‘HIDING’ From CONSOLATIONS: The Solace, Nourishment and Underlying Meaning of Everyday Words. 2015 © David Whyte – Now Available – http://davidwhyte.stores.yahoo.net/newbook.html

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Tired Wolf

tiredwolf

(for Christal, on your birthday)

When your night is too long
— I will come to you.
When you can’t find your song
— I will sing to you.
When the strength in you tires
— I’ll be strong for you.
I’ll bring flame to the fires
–that burn low in you.
No matter how far you roam
— I will run to you.
I will carry you home
— I will find you.
—–
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Escape to Neverland (a #NaPoMo #APRPAD rondeau poem)

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She said lost boys like her are free.
She smiled at me, offered her hand,
invited me to Neverland.
I asked myself how this could be.

She promised me that love’s the key.
This kind of thing happens, unplanned.

She said lost boys like me are free.
She smiled at me and squeezed my hand.

Behind her eyes I found the sea.

We flew and left behind dry land,
straight on till dawn, past two stars, and

I’ll never be the same — not me,
because lost boys like us are free!

—–

#NaPoMo INFO:

Poetic Asides #April Poem-A-Day Challenge – PAD #9:

For today’s prompt, write a hide out poem. When I was a kid, we’d build “hide outs,” I guess from our parents or other kids. An assortment of criminals (fictionalized and real) have their hide outs. But maybe there are other hide outs, like a “man cave,” “she shed,” or the local pub. Heck, maybe it’s the library. Give it a thought, and I’m sure you’ll find the right hide out poem for you.

http://www.writersdigest.com/whats-new/2016-april-pad-challenge-day-9

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POETIC FORM INFO:
The poetic form focus for my PAD 2016 Challenge is the Rondeau — 13 lines in 3 stanzas; rhyme scheme: ABba/abAB/abbaA (uppercase letters are refrains) Usually 8 syllables per line. For info: http://www.writersdigest.com/editor-blogs/poetic-asides/personal-updates/help-me-rondeau-help-help-me-rondeau-another-french-poetic-form

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Distance (a #NaPoMo #APRPAD rondeau poem)

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Carry me with you, near or far.
Tuck me in your right hip pocket.
My heart will be just where you are.
Hang me ’round your neck — a locket.

Close the door, or leave it ajar —
I’ll stick by you, ball and socket.
Carry me with you, near or far.
I’ll be in your right hip pocket.

Let’s adventure to realms afar?
We can fly! Don’t mind the clock — it’s
ours to choose, by plane or rocket.
We’ll watch the moon, count every star.
I’ll go with you, near or far.

—–

#NaPoMo INFO:
Poetic Asides #April Poem-A-Day Challenge – PAD #4:

For today’s prompt, write a distance poem. As a runner, I automatically think of running when I think distance. But hey, there’s long distance relationships. Or why not get beyond geographic distance and consider distance in terms of time or emotional distance. Or some other interpretation.

http://www.writersdigest.com/whats-new/2016-april-pad-challenge-day-4

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POETIC FORM INFO:
The poetic form focus for my PAD 2016 Challenge is the Rondeau — 13 lines in 3 stanzas; rhyme scheme: ABba/abAB/abbaA (uppercase letters are refrains) Usually 8 syllables per line. For info: http://www.writersdigest.com/editor-blogs/poetic-asides/personal-updates/help-me-rondeau-help-help-me-rondeau-another-french-poetic-form

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Muddy

muddyhands

 

My mess is yours, your doubts are mine.
The way you hold my truth, I trust —
because you hand me yours, and just
pour out your fears like sweet, red wine.

I’m like a child — resist and whine.
My cares can leave me feeling trussed.
My mess is yours, your doubts are mine.
The way you hold my truth, I trust.

We let our weakness intertwine,
splash in the mud without disgust,
refuse to feed our wanderlust.
We know our love is genuine.
My mess is yours, your doubts are mine.

—–

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

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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’

———-

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Stronger

image

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

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Your Way (an interlocking rubaiyat poem)

hike

I’d give you my world, baby if I could.
take you on a trip through my lovely wood —
but the nightingale lost her voice today,
so your tears have fallen just as they should.

I know sometimes you must go your own way.
I can’t smooth your path, take your pain away.
Though you do not climb this mountain alone,
you must face your fears; you can win the day.

I will walk with you, over every stone,
lend my voice to cheer you on, when you groan.
I’ll wipe your tears, when it’s hard and you cry —
believe you can win this fight, blood and bone.

You’ll find your own wings, I’ll run as you fly,
race along the forest floor, watch the sky —
as you chase the nightingale, be nearby,
when you reach the moon, howl your lullaby.

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POETIC FORM:

interlocking rubaiyat – comprised of quatrains following an aaba rhyme pattern. Each successive quatrain picks up the unrhymed line as the rhyme for that stanza. So a three-stanza rubaiyat might rhyme so: aaba/bbcb/ccdc. Sometimes the final stanza, as in Frost’s example above, rhymes all four lines. Lines are usually tetrameter and pentameter.

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FOR MORE INFO: http://www.writersdigest.com/whats-new/interlocking-rubaiyat-poetic-form

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Just a Taste — After Halsey, Castle (a golden shovel poem)

werewolf2

 

I wonder if you understand it now 
the way you draw pain from my 
body like blood from a jugular. My neck 
–both pale and trembling– is 
yours to take, always open 
to your appetite, and the wide 
hungry hollow in you, begging 
to be filled. I will surrender, ache for 
any chance to feed your need.
wild and hungry wolf, you are the fist 
that holds me close, wraps itself around 
me and draws pain like blood, just to taste it.
———-
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)”.
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POEM A DAY NOVEMBER 2015 – PROMPT:
For today’s prompt, write a “let the moment begin” poem.
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