Wednesday, April 23, 2014

day 23, mistranslation

Retrato de Uma Princesa Desconhecida

Para que ela tivesse um pescoco tao fino
Para que os seus pulsos tivessem um quebrar de caule
Para que os seus olhos fossem tao frontais e limpos
Para que a sua espinha fosse tao direita
E ela usasse a cabeca tao erguida
Com uma tao simples claridade sobre a testa
Foram necessarias sucessivas geracoes de escravos
De corpo dobrado e grossas maos pacientes
Servindo sucessivas geracoes de principes
Ainda um pouco toscos e grosseiros
Avidos crueis e fraudulentos

Foi um imenso desperdicar de gente
Para que ela fosse aquela perfeicao
Solitaria exilada sem destino

Retract the One Princess Desired

For she he temptation one penny too fine
For she of sweet pulse temptation one quells the calm
For she of sweet lips falser too face and limb
For she it is spun false too direct
And he uses it cabled too dear
With one too simply clear sedate it tests
All needed success gave the craving
The group brave and large most pacient
Serving success gave the lead
Appeals one little toast and largely
Appears cruel and false

Feel one great despair the man
For she he false accuses perfection
Lonely exiled their destiny

Tuesday, April 22, 2014

day 18-22

rubaiyat of monotony

rotates again the sun
another futile battle won
sleep to wake and start again
a work that's never done

sky is blue
nothing new
count to ten
find a you that's true

soul begins to glow
invisible parts start to show
monotony breaks
the world can grow



trapped beneath
a heavy bonnet of grief
sighing below
the incised moon's glow
the sparse dove weeps
an unfeeling world sleeps
the unequal bittersweet wells
as you break free from its shell


mother's voice

quiet exit
full of praise
so different than the life you lead
vituperative shouts
whiskey breath
shotgun in stomach
a child's unheard screams


to a lost child

a fantasy girl
living with California dreams
believed love would exist
like in Hollywood scenes
crimson lips long to be kissed
body yearns to be close
breathing in dangerous wind
mistaking excitement for passion
losing self
to forced intimacy's
foolish haze


wish for the small

that your life would not be free
from strife
but always there's a hand
to comfort your battered one
that you suffer heartache
and joy of finding
your missing piece
that you witness injustice
so you know how
to be kind
and you never grow to old
for me

Thursday, April 17, 2014

day 17, sensory images

woodsy smoke burns eyes
and nose
its warmth pushing back
on autumn chill
grass between bare toes
sweet and charred mallow 
sticks fast 
gentle laughter
beaming smiles
pervading love
of friends

Wednesday, April 16, 2014

days 11-16, more bang for your buck

It's been a bit of a crazy week what with sickness, homework, work, mom visits, and a super social Sunday. I've been looking at the prompts every day and creating these babies in my head but every day I seem to run out of time to actually sit down at the computer and type them out. So now you get six for the price of one. 

wine and feelings

a heady bouquet of wine
and you
no cloudy cloying
but elegant depth
full and lively
that could mellow
to something rounded
and sweet
but left to its own devices
leaves a bitter 



literary reference to time is abundant
time has a rich history
sold in glass bottles
and sealed with cork
time's aroma comes from volatile compounds
individual flavors that may be detected
subtle differences in color, palate, nose, body,
and development
the psychoactive effects of time 
are evident
closely associated with blood
spreading culturally westward
high-quality time improves
with age



bane of wood sweeps
land to land
sleep of the sword
near at hand
the swan-road dark
with slaughter-dew
the glory of elves
over a new you



would you laugh or sneer?
would you fail to hear?
would you understand?
would you hold my hand?
would you leave?
would you grieve?
would you stay?
would it cause you dismay?
would it make you thrill?
would you love me still?
no more


terza rima

lights go down
curtains rise
trying not to drown

beautiful lies
torn from the page
imagining I see your eyes

trapped in this cage
missing your face
blinded by wounded rage

no more trace
of your beaming smile
gone to another place

enduring this trial
an ever bleeding heart
that never can heal this while



mired in past and present failure
afraid to step out of the door
trembling legs 
shaking voice 
invisible girl
lowered eyes
somehow unworthy of love
cripplingly shy
one more lie
I taught myself to be

Thursday, April 10, 2014

day 10, the secrets we keep

secret lovers
untold love
unattainable dreams

unsung triumph
battles fought
the strength we have inside

the things we have lost
the bruises we hide
the scars that no one can see

the silence we never can't keep

Wednesday, April 9, 2014

days 8 and 9, rewrites and random songs

the path ahead was always clear
and sure I had always been
and yet as the bend in the road grew near
a feeling arose, that to me was queer
a louder voice that rose above the din

I took the turn with no regret
no one could change my mind
they discouraged and yet
every challenge I met
a better dream to find

how hard I tried
times could be rough
sometimes I lied
about how often I cried
fearing it'd never be enough

the path ahead was always clear
but never had I been so wrong
the person now is ever more dear
independent and strong and free of fear
a heart with a happier song


when I wanted you more
I was head over feet
I forgave you always
just one more time
when I walked away
the last time
I don't think I truly believed
that I was ever
gonna get over you
but one day you awake
and everything is gone
with a misty vagueness
of glitter in the air

Monday, April 7, 2014

days 5, 6, and 7

my Jamesian "golden shovel"

the word never uttered "their"
no word for the state of relationship
unsure of what their feelings consisted

always searching for the right way in
avoiding the possibility of discussing
the ever hang if
no interest in defining it
grateful that it existed


clear blue sky
cool spring breeze
possibility shining forth
the monster stirs
from underground
a new face born
from a new hope


pages that smell of dust
dog eared and torn
covers hang loose
a poor man's trash
that leads me to worlds
beyond my own
and teaches lessons
that life alone