Drown a Flask

  

 

Confusion purl inside my head,

sad thoughts besiege this weary soul.

Words spoken - carelessly said,

alone, I plummet down a hole.

 

Can eyes see pain behind my mask,

concealing anguish buried deep?

Escape your own pain, drown a flask,

Your pseudo façade makes you weep.

 

Expressions glaring dissension,

this anger boils your mad face red.

The wine color brings forth tension,

unsaid words scratch till hearts are shred. 

 

Appears to be a no-win lot,

old patterns never seem to lie.

Let distance heal this love torn knot,

before time takes toll and we die.

 

 

-TheMsLvh © 2011

image source: Google image

 

 

California Ink In Motion by TheMsLvh is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License

Can You Relate? (rant)

 

I am so out of rhythm

         And so out of rhyme

I don’t even know the time!

 

I just draw a blank

         My words are at a loss

How do I get my thoughts across?

 

My muse has run away

         I hope not for long

What has gone wrong?

 

Was it the lack of sleep

         Or the daily stress of life?

Whatever it is, I’ll cut with a knife

 

Writing is my drug of choice

          I am in the throes of withdrawal

Words are trapped and want out…

 

         That’s all.

 

-TheMsLvh 7-29-11

Spare the Rod… Please?

This poem was a difficult write. Not only with the words chosen but my dark muse appeared. This is a dark poem of child abuse, but a subject that always needs attention.  I hope I did it justice on a few levels.

Submitted to The Sunday Whirl,

 

 

Torn curtains can hold twisted memories

of acts remembered, pain forgotten not.

The reprehensible atrocities

behind closed doors, leave rendered spots.

 

Sore red lines cast external bruising gild

on flesh so pure, its’ contrast scattered deep.

One blink can whirl wet eyes from sad tears filled,

before the young will climb on clouds to sleep.

 

Domestic stains remain as clocks tick time;

contort the scan of life’s new marvel age.

Bad memories will haunt this blind crime

thus, leaves a spirit blistering enraged.

 

 TheMsLvh © 2011

image source: Staale N

California Ink In Motion by TheMsLvh is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License

To the Wood – a Sonnet

It’s time to travel so I must go

to the place where Redwoods grow.

 

 

 

 

 

This heart is yearning for my earth bound friend,

to mend the wreckage done and calm the seethe.

Dense woods I scurry, searching to transcend

and melt into your breath, so I can breathe.

 

My spirit yielded freely to the wood,

when I was young and grew beneath cool shade.

The tender young fern danced under the hood

and played with sunbeam pearls in soft cascade.

 

Just hold me tightly with your Redwood arm,

to gently cradle empty souless sleep.

My heart is bleeding, keep me safe from harm,

I come to heal these spirit wounds that weep.

 

Alone I walk beneath my forest friend,

internal peace I seek, my soul to mend.

 

 

-TheMsLvh  © 2011

* Special Thank you to Luke Prater and dVerse

Image source: http://www.laspilitas.com/

California Ink In Motion by TheMsLvh is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License

Haiku #1

Truly life is hard

but it can be lived easy

Fly,  but don’t hit trees

-TheMsLvh

dVerse

California Ink In Motion by TheMsLvh is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License

In Tibet – Ghazal style

For those who do not know Ghazal poetry…..(I hope I did it justice although, I tweaked the rhythm a bit).

 

History:
This style of poetry is known as Ghazal. The Ghazal was developed in Persia in the 10th century AD from the Arabic verse form qasida. A number of American poets, including Adrienne Rich and W.S. Merwin, have written Ghazals, usually without the strict pattern of the traditional form.

 

Form:
A traditional Ghazal consists of five to fifteen couplets, typically seven. A refrain (a repeated word or phrase) appears at the end of both lines of the first couplet and at the end of the second line in each succeeding couplet. In addition, one or more words before the refrain are rhymes or partial rhymes. The lines should be of approximately the same length and meter. Absolutely no enjambment allowed! The poet may use the final couplet as a signature couplet, using his or her name in first, second or third person, and giving a more direct declaration of thought or feeling to the reader.

Style:
Each couplet should be a poem in itself, like a pearl in a necklace. There should not be continuous development of a subject from one couplet to the next through the poem ( I might of). The refrain provides a link among the couplets, but they should be detachable, quotable, grammatical units. There should be an epigrammatic terseness, yet each couplet should be lyric and evocative.

 

 

 

In Tibet

 

Young girl on dirty street cries - in Tibet.

Old man praying, sad life, dies - in Tibet.

  

Crisp water cascading down rocky creeks

Warm beer soothes annoying flies – in Tibet.

 

Tall mountains kiss new heights, snow eagles soar.

Free notes of music will rise - in Tibet

 

Hot food is always spiced with heavy scent.

The flavors burn your wet eyes - in Tibet.

 

Thin flags of color decorate blue sky.

Young monks will protest the lies – in Tibet

  

No boarders left, war raged for China’s greed.

The Dali Lama’s Zen sighs - in Tibet.

 

I heard the voice of freedom shout Lisa! 

Free souls rise, your voice defies - in Tibet..

 

-TheMsLvh  © 2011

image source:http://www.lhasa-travel.com

text source:http://www.baymoon.com/~ariadne/form/ghazal.htm

 

California Ink In Motion by TheMsLvh is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License

Old Bones Give Way – a Villanelle

One traditional form of poetry that can be fun to write, is technically easy compared to the most challenging forms, and often surprises the poet with its twists and discoveries, is the villanelle.

Villanelles have been around for at least three hundred years. .

My poem has three beats to a line (ta-DUM, ta-DUM, ta-DUM), not so traditional five(ta-DUM, ta-DUM, ta-DUM, ta-DUM, ta-DUM). But it is all good because this is a flexible poetic form and my first Villanelle poem.

 

 

 

When my old bones give way

Divine spirit flies high;

Sweet rhythm gone today.

 

On emerald grass I lay

My children then will cry;

When my old bones give way.

 

Illusion, eyes astray

Into the void, good-bye:

Sweet rhythm gone today.

 

So ominous they say;

Celestial am I?

When my old bones give way.

 

A pantomime’s ballet

Off balcony to fly;

Sweet rhythm gone today.

 

It jostles your mind – stay

Observe my ghost awhile;

When my old bones give way

Sweet rhythm gone today.

 

 

-TheMsLvh  © 2011

image source: http://wallpaperstock.net/

 

 

 

 
California Ink In Motion by TheMsLvh is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License

Flash in Time

 

For in a moment you suspended time

with your soft verses, synchronized in rhyme.

My ears were longing for expressions new;

the hours shared together were too few.

 

Our eyes connected with a flash of light;

a flash you see as twilight turns to night.

Some say it’s green, but none the less, it’s bright

when eyes connect, the thrill, so real, so right.

 

Your five o’clock scent seared a memory,

that will burn forever in history.

Tongues dancing on the moonlight’s heated skin,

 igniting passion’s aching need – within.

 

Was it a dream of my desired want?

Throughout the day those deep memories haunt,

for it was just a flash in time gone past -

but forever a memory to last.

 

-TheMsLvh     © 2011 *edited 9/16/11

Submitted -http://dversepoets.com/2011/09/15/meeting-the-bar-critique-and-craft-approach-notes/ @ dVerse Poets Pub

 

 
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Hold Her Gently, She’s Fragile

 

  * 

Hear the wanting cry of a hawk

in cloudless warm skies she flies

keen sharp eyes so precise they stalk 

open fields below the blue skies

 

Gliding wings of feathers soar high

reaching heights only angels fly

caught in thermals of hot July

ever so high - she passes by

 

Small fragile body with heart so free

her haunting spirit plays with stars

wind carries her far where she sees

nature’s gift without the scars

 

Treetops sparse after the harvest

forests dwindle for sake of man

rivers polluted - most cruelest

plastic bags float by Coors beer can

 

Mother Earth is in need of hugs

repair the damage is my dream

hawks, wolves and even little bugs

need a clean world to flow down stream

 

-TheMsLvh  © 2011

 

 

*try using reusable cloth grocery bags*

 

 Image source: Google Images

California Ink In Motion by TheMsLvh is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License

Bewilderment – a Sonnet

 

 

I slept on sand within your sweet embrace

the warmth your skin emits entices me

I lost perception of all time and space

as waves of your soft voice invite the sea

 

Horizon glowed with sparks of fireworks

the flash of light emblazoned your deep eyes

you canvassed landscapes on my soft bare perks

and felt rewarded by your captured prize

 

Bewildered silent words that could not say

those thoughts which left us fearing danger zone

a road not certain in this game of play

to take a risk with love and not postpone

 

Bewilderment excites within you deep

and leaves me longing you on this blind leap

~~~~~~~~~~~

- TheMsLvh © 2011

 

California Ink In Motion by TheMsLvh is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License

_____________________

I received an award from for this Sonnet from:
  The Perfect Poet Award of Poets Rally Week 48  located at  Promising Poets’ Poetry Cafe

 

The honor is mine

My poem was received well

Thank you for reading

I would like to nominate  CC Champagne