Month: October 2015

Poetry

Embrace This Circumstance

  • by kwirb

Embrace This Circumstance

Perhaps it is courage
or some semblance of it
where wires that fray
from this fray to that
bonds all troubles
with dashes of

beep. (finality.) beep.

something else; a reminder
that frailty is not the result
but the conditions from whence
this broken ballad began
its resounding trill in faint pulses.

beep.

A pulsation that resounds
beyond the rooms we’ve found
ourselves imprisoned.

Nothing has changed
while nothing
is as it once was.

– flatline –

20 lines. Prompt: picture of 2 patients reaching out to one another in a hospital room.

Poetry

The Difference

  • by kwirb

The Difference

i.

The reasons
for your choices are
the essence of my existence.

Your words are cutting
slices of me
that fall between your and my
ideals;

the little things
that define us.

ii.

We never changed.

Your admittance
cannot transcend beyond
your views of my youth
whilst your years are the pillars
cemented in my foundation.

Your departure
ruins me;

the bigger things
that became us.

iii.

(
pondering.
)

iv.

You’ve moved on.

v.

We stand apart
and alone.

Though no longer the edifice
built on a premise
of ideals,

understandably,

I still yearn for it.

Brevity written in 99 words (stanza enumeration, included). Initially, a response to this prompt though, in hindsight, I cannot be certain. Wrote it right before lunch on Thanksgiving Day…

Poetry

Old Skool’d

  • by kwirb

Old Skool’d

We met

in your words, dancing, through your plots advancing;
from prose entrancing as dins of emotional things.
– Ruthless reaming, pauseless scheming. –
(maybe dreaming) An uncanny ability
to belittle the little
that is left
of me.
But,
in you,
the only right
is greater than worse.
(cruelest credo) A remarkable ignorance.
– Choked on egos from mediocre placebos. –
In your lessened heaven, you, Legend unquestioned,
omit to mention: I’d learned these lessons since before

we met.

Response to this prompt. The prompt is for bitches, but I wanted this to be more anti-bullying, Also, It’s called “old school” while the poem looks like Pacman, owasup!
Poetry

Session One: Introductions

  • by kwirb

princess

My name is Cinderella and I’m an alcoholic.
I used to drink while dusting mantles,
but now I crave the fuels, hydraulic.

Hi, my name’s Rapunzel and I’m a kleptomaniac.
Below the tower, next to the horse,
are the evidence in haystacks.

Blue Fairy, here, with Tinkerbell! We love to gossip!
So we’re not actually here to share,
we’re just wagering in on toss-ups!

My name is Esmerelda and I’m here with my Aunt Wendy.
Tinkerbell promised a show,
so start whenever you’re ready!

My name is Sleeping Beauty and I’m a narcoleptic.
When Charming wants to kiss and tell,
I drug him with analeptics.

Hello, I’m Princess Jasmine and I have halitosis.
Aladdin thinks the rugs can fly
when my breath causes hypnosis.

Jane, here… and I brought my husband, Tarzan.
ran into Pocahontas, just ignore us,
we’re just early for a dinner plan!

My name is Ariel, they call me Little Mermaid.
I’m aquaphobic and obsessed
with singing when persuaded.

I’m Princess Megara, my hubby’s Hercules.
I ran away from Mount Olympus
and developed foot and mouth disease.

Hi, my name is Belle and I am claustrophobic.
I imagine all the furniture
poised in mixed spots of aerobics.

I’m Merida. Sorry for the knuckle-cracking.
My mother took my bow away,
but “‘Merica”, so now I’m packing!

Greetings, I am Elsa and I can’t let it go,
that every time I cook or bake,
the food transforms to snow.

Hi, my name is Anna, and I am Elsa’s sister.
I had some trouble with some boy,
so now the stable hand’s my Mister.

I guess my name’s Mulan. I like to wear men’s clothes.
I can’t tell my reflection
from the girl that it’s exposed.

Hello, my name’s Tiana and I’m obsessed with frogs.
But it’s not as bad as my cousin,
twice removed, and her obsession with the dog.

Hiiiiiiiiii! My name is Barbie!
Ken just dropped me off!
Yaaaaaaay! Tupperware party!

I am Princess Nala and I can’t hold a wand,
I initially was mad because…
…never mind, I’ll just eat this blonde.

Hi, my name is Alice. I fell through a rabbit hole.
I thought I saw the Queen of Hearts,
but I also just smoked a bowl…

Salutations. I’m Aurora. I’ve personalities, two.
My name is Sleeping Beauty
and these dwarves are all my crew.

Pocahontas, here, gathering you all as planned.
Forget the 60 minutes
and get the hell off of my land!

Response to this prompt. Basically, Princesses in group therapy. Not my usual theme, but the prompt was so alluring, I couldn’t resist, haha! Have fun!

Poetry

Through A Silent Moment He Whispered To Me

  • by kwirb

Through A Silent Moment He Whispered To Me

This barely audible larking will be my demise.
A throaty moan? An uplifting tone? Words forlorn?
From silence to a shivering whispers’ surprise

was that voice. It lingers from somewhere born
of wishful pleas or wistful deeds that deluged
my lungs; narrow-valved hushes, colloquy-adorned.

Though your exacting exhale is my literal refuge,
I cannot imagine unhearing your perceptions of me
and sparking better musings to aid in my rescue.

Your command, afloat in the wharf, buoyant seas,
is perhaps the best description of our enchanting,
yet, intrinsic relationship. A coughing’s wheeze,

a guilty, lone inquest, the only evidence supplanting
double meanings into my psyche’s ideals of devotion.
I must inhale truth past your complication’s panting.

Spoken wisps of tender fondness drifts in slow motion,
“Pass the salt, please.” – amidst my inner commotion. –

Written in response to a title PROMPT found here.

Experimenting with terza rima… hope you all enjoy this. #StrictlyPlatonic, haha!

whispering-marmots_1657915i

Uncategorized

Incubus

  • by kwirb

Incubus

Sanguine ether
nursing contusions;
emotional tourniquet
upon tenebrous fervency.

Succubus.

Poetry

digressions

  • by kwirb

digressions

 

 

feeble steps

failure’s mess.

efforts stressed.

Convalesce’s finesse

acquiesces…

(…nonetheless.)

 

Poetry

Tools

  • by kwirb

TOOLS

I’ve been using the wrong
tools to complete your tasking
demands of me.

Whether shiny or rusty
or opaque in luster, these
tools are all I have.

From your whizzing gadgets
and gizmos aplenty, my
contraptions implement nothing.

Poetry

Scorched Terrain

  • by kwirb

SCORCHED TERRAIN

I’ve said the things that should have remained unspoken
and dwelt on your ideas in my head that nearly engulf
the pulsing tremors of our mutual heartbeats, unbroken.
Your vibrations cause strokes. They throb, ebb. Enough.

Your countenance is a truth that I’ve come to admire.
Its appeal intends to redesign my meagerest blunders.
A heart’s consent, yours, is one I’ve had to aspire
to obtain. To beseech my appetite. To invoke wonders

upon my ego. A conscience dissected; of flesh, marrow,
and bones brittled, from which the dreamful dollops
of reverie blotched, is your flawless mind: a narrow
self that curses. – Taints upon my eagerest sonnets. –

Perhaps I did not say them enough or aloud nor apprise
my earthy efforts from your eventual, ignited demise.