Wednesday, November 30, 2005

Relief (bless)

This was the sonnet we had to write for Brit Lit


Chosen words are few, as my blood filters through my heart and veins,
acroos my mind to my finger tips where my heart speaks as my pen takes
aim, between the lines of these sheets that have become waht I am.

And slowly I write waht I've become and what I want to be, as all the pain
is drained from me,the ink becomes my blood forever leaving a stain for all to see.

I've never been heartless, to know me you have to listen to my words speak,
to you there harmless, to me every page you turn is to see me bleed
as my heart cries pure emotion and nothing less, for my thoughts are the workds i breathe interperted into words you read.

To understand them is to understan me, and to understand me is to belive, my love fo you is as real as it'll always be, even if I'm too far, to far for you to reach, I'm always there for I am what you read.

hour glass by Omar Gomez

My friend wrote this, he is in jail now. I posted this becuse i think is real deep and i wanted to know if you all though the same.

IM RUNNING OUT OF SAND I SEE LIFE AS A BIG HOUR GLASS//

IVE TRIED TO FORGET ABOUT IT BY INHALING CANIBIS TO THE POINT WHERE IM NUMB AND EVEYTHING MAKES ME LAUGH//

THREE MORE LITTLE GRAINS OF SAND BEING POURED//

I USE TO WEAR BANDANAS TO HIDE MY EYES I WORE DARK GLASS TO COVER MY EYES//

WHY MY EYES WHERE BLOOD SHOT RED AND CLEARLY U CAN SEE I WANTED TO RIDE FOR MY BOYS I WAS GONA DIE//

MANY PEOPLE CRITIZE ME FOR WEARING ALL BLUE WITH MY PANTS BEING TO LOOSE OR BAGGY//

NOW IM GONA DROP SOME KNOWLEDGE IM GONA WELCOME YALL TO MY MENTALITY//

IM A THINKER’S MAN AND MAN THINK I’LL SAY THINGS HEAVY ENOUGH SO IN YOUR MIND THEY CAN SINK//

PEOPLE HAVE ASKED ME WHY IM SO NEGATIVE WHY I THINK THE WAY I THINK//

WELL I HOPE FOR THE BEST AND EXPECT THE WORST FIRST//

THE WAY I SEE MY BIRTH MY LIFE AS A WAY GOD GIVING THIS WORLD A DEADLY CURSE//

I FEEL WHAT I SPEAK AND SPEAK WHAT I FEEL//

IF THE TRUTH HURTS THEN THINK AS MY WORDS AS A STAKE MADE OUT OF STEEL//

DIGGING DEEP IN YOUR BODY SOUL AND SPIRIT DON’T FAKE THE FUNK KEEP IT REAL//

AND LET YOUR WOUNDS HEAL//

DO YALL THINK IM REAL OR JUST A MITH?FOR THIS COLOR OF MY SHIRT I WOULD
DEFEND IT WITH KNIFES AND STICKS//

WE WERE ORGANIZED WE WERE TIGHT LIKE BOW TIES//

NOW IM THINKING ON HOW I WASTED MY LIFE NOW I THINK HOW IT WOULD’VE BEEN IF I ACTUALLY TRIED//

THE BUS TO HAPPINESS LEFT AND HOUR AGO IT LEFT ME BEHIND WITH NO PERSON IN SITE//

NOT A FRIENDLY HAND NO CAR NO CHANCE FOR A HITCH HIKE//

THEY SAY THE EARLY BIRD GETS THE WORM I GUESS I WOKE UP LATE//

NOW IM TRING TO WORK WITH I GOT LEFT//

NOW I GOTTA DO WHAT I DO WITH A DIFFERENT MENTALITY I DIFFERENT MINDSTATE//

DAM ALMOST OUT OF SAND MY HOUR GLASS IS ALMOST FILLED LET MAKE THIS SO
YALL CAN UNDERSTAND ME//

THESE MENTAL DEGREES I’VE ACHIEVED THE BRAIN FLUID IT TAKES TO BELIEF WOULD EQUAL THE SEVEN SEA//

SEE SOME OF YALL TELL HOW IT MIGHT BE I TELL IT HOW I SEE WHAT MY EYE MAKE ME BELIEF//

IM OUT OF SAND IM OUT OF SAND INSTEAD OF ASKING IF YOU CAN SPEAR A MINUTE IM GONA GO TO THE DESERT AND ASK A LIZZARD FOR SAND TO FILL UP MY HOUR GLASS//

The man with out a past (bless)

That man,
the one w/o a plan
no one's fan,
i know its him..
the one without a dream

You look into his eyes,
but you see no lies, no past
its like he's wearing a MASK

no tears,
no fears,
no lies,
no fights,
only blank eyes,
and empty nights

The man with the empty soul,
it's like he hasnt been told,
or doesnt seem to care,
that soon this world will just TARE

Monday, November 28, 2005

I Need a Vacation (press)

I let go
I led myself on
into an emotional trap that
is almost impossible to break free
I convinced myself
that I felt something false
and then I amplified that feeling
made it more
so big, and so fake
that it became real
seemingly impossible
yet true
then I made it seem ok
I embroidered it into my life
made it normal, inserted it into my routine
even made it a part of me
I drowned in it
and enjoyed every minute of the intense pain
it was truly giving me
I was secure in it's falsehood
and then
someone threatened to take it away
how
can you take something that is fabricated into me
but it's false
so I tried to break it
and ended up breaking
a little piece of
myself.
And now I am descending
into an endless abyss
of temporary insanity
but it's ok because
I will recover and maybe someday soon
I can be myself
truly myself again

June (Press)

My thoughts bake
in my head
as the sun presses
down on me and my bikini.
Life just seems
to float in the tepid air,
like a wispy cloud,
an afterthought,
a sweet perfume.
My skin drinks in
the heat,
and the cold, sharp rain
and barren trees of winter
are far from my mind.

Monday, November 21, 2005

me and boys (address)

Address: does it all flow together? Is this too much puncuation for this poem?

Boys just tell me that they're mine
And that they'll never play me twice.
I give them a chance
But they just feel like you want to dance.
He's really cute and hot.
But his shoes are so not.
I'll give them two chances more.
But they will have to respect me for ever more.
I do like him, I just hope he likes me too.
But alot of people ask "Why don't you do too?''
I say I really really like him and I want to be with him for ever and ever.
People talk and stare but I don't really care.
I just want my life to be very nice!
posted by La Reyna

Thursday, November 17, 2005

The Crimson Room, Part 5 (press)

Enjoy!


When I look up
all I can see is crimson
If I think
all I can feel is crimson
I cannot breathe
The crimson is attempting
assassination on me;
my mind and soul
and body
It feels like since the begginning of time
that this torture has existed
and it won't stop till the end
just for me
I cannot remember...what color were the walls?
the shag rug...how did it feel?
my desk...what shade was it?
It's ending
I have to accept it
these facts that we long to conceal
so very badly
I, played as a puppet
my needs, my wants
insignificant
It lies on them
it lies on me
dead weight, crushing my whole
wait
threads
are all around me
I can't escape
They won't let me
the threads are ropes now
thick ropes
the noose
again around my neck
I can't move
They don't trust me
to handle myself
So I can't be handled at all
it's over
the ropes are pulling tighter
on my frail body
so fragile
so dead
tighter
tighter
please stop
I'm drowning
the water streaming down my face
almost calms my mind from its terrified state
almost
it is here
in this room that I can no longer remember the happiness of
that I reach
finally
my demise
I have lost-
To the
Crimson



The end.

Ok I might change it. It's not exactly as I planned, but it is there, upon repeated requests. Thank you for your enthusiasm and like I said earlier, BE HARSH! I'm going to start revisions for a final piece, so be ready for that one cuz it'll be a whopper! Lol.

Monday, November 14, 2005

Red (Address)

This is a somewhat abstract response to La Maestra's latest prompt. Does it accurately reflect what the color red represents to you?

The burning heat
draws near to my skin
as I let my emotions run wild;
the passion in my dark blood
scalds me inside
with the anger and love
of a great flame -
my fiery heart
has finally conquered.

Saturday, November 12, 2005

prompt idea

How do you describe a color to a person who has always been blind? Choose one and try, then post what you write.

(Where are the color poems you wrote on Wednesday...?)

Thursday, November 10, 2005

In Honour of Rosa Parks: I will stand up for what I believe in (press)

So this is my response to La Maestra's Prompt in honour of Rosa Parks. That was definetly a challenge, but it was fun. I also kind of incorporated my personal reaction to tolerance day into the poem, but it's probably not that evident.

In Honour of Rosa Parks: I will stand up for what I believe in

How is it possible
to deny love
something which we hold so dear
designated
as hard to find
once in a lifetime
how can one be defending
something so precious
by destroying its very core
using something so cruel
as hate and discrimination
to protect something
so sacred
something that must be cherished
they make people
human biengs
feel ashamed to be themselves
hold back their opinions
opinions that could form
and water the seed not of anger
but of hope
love, acceptance
beyond tolerance
past preconceptions
maybe
if they were given a chance
a chance to use their minds
to live the lives they want
and be equal to anyone else
to live the american dream
I would live
somewhere I could
be proud of.

Blades (address, and press)

Achoo's back! But not at full force...I'm doing what I call "poetic physical therapy" to try and recover my poetic voice so I can successfully, and finally finish the long-awaited conclusion of the Crimson Room.
So my question is, what do you think this is about? And, is the repetition (notice the 3 line stanzas and use of pronouns as well as the first and last stanza) kind of choppy or does it help the poem maintain a central idea and consistency?


Blades

It's cold
but just enough
to soothe my soul

It's my release
from life
and every responsibility

It's my therapy
it calms my mind
and repairs my heart

It's my dream
my desires are evident
and couldn't be clearer

It's my passion
there's nothing I feel
better about doing

It's my guilty pleasure
I shouldn't be so
concentrated but I am

It's my inner tranquility
It's the only way
that I can be at peace

It's my drive
I have to force myself
to try it all at least once

It's my groundedness
nothing can ever be
that bad

It's cold though
but just cold enough
to soothe my soul

Wednesday, November 09, 2005

Viento/Wind (Press)

El el verano
la vida duerme
en el cielo
en las manos
del viento,
pero se despierta
rápidamente
con el trueno negro
que el oto├▒o trae.


In the summer
life sleeps
in the sky
in the hands
of the wind,
but it awakens
quickly
with the black thunder
that autumn brings.

Monday, November 07, 2005

Invitation (bless)

This is not my poem. It was written by Shel Silverstein one of my favorite poets of all time. I would like to know what you guys like about this poem and why. Please do comment on this peom It is one of my favorites.

Invitation

If you are a dreamer, come in,
If you are a dreamer, a wisher, a liar,
A hope-er, a pray-er, a magic bean buyer. . .
If you're a pretender, come sit by my fire
For we have some flax-golden tales to spin.
Come in!
Come in!

Writing Prompt

I was sitting around in study hall,
bored out of my mind-
when all of the sudden,
out of the blue,
I had a brilliant thought.
What if I
posted a prompt
for all the other users?
About a time when they've been bored
and had them respond to it?

There ya go. Thats my ten second poem-prompt. Which I just wrote, out of the blue without even thinking about it. Enjoy! I can't WAIT to read the poems you guys post! Love ya ~pinkroses~

Friday, November 04, 2005

Frustration (Press)

Yesterday, I walked downstairs
and opened up the dryer.
I counted out the socks,
folding them as I went.
One pair... two pairs... three... three and a half...
wait- three and a half?
Wheres the other sock?
I opened up the washer,
but it wasn't there.
I looked inside the launry basket
and inside the hamper.
No where could I find
the missing sock-
Pink with gold and silver stripes
and a Hershey's chocolate kiss-
not a sock that it would be
easy to miss!
I ran around searching
until I grew so tired
I lay down on the floor
and there, rolled up inside
a shoe near my head
was my missing sock.

Tuesday, November 01, 2005

River (Bless)

I wait always
for the return
through a frosty window
or the gloomy autumn clouds,
the memories trapping me
in this desperate isolation,
a distorted hope -
everything is blurry and fluid
and the confusion pulls
at my tender core
with every glance.

prompt idea

In honor of Rosa Parks's remarkable life and unmatched contributions to the civil rights movement, try writing a poem about something that you are willing to stand up for - or sit down for, as she did on that legendary bus.

Be sure to post what you write...