Author: kwirb

#30Days30Sonnets

Tint

  • by kwirb

TINT

I caught glimpses of your blushing face
this evening, you bashful orb of night!
If only clouds didn’t dull my focal space;
your crimson disintegration from white.
Your moonshine’s murky and opaque ascent
is surely (arguably?) your lunar effort to bleed.
A blurry admission of your crimson consent
to never gleam fully to a bittersweet extent.

Slowly, I transmogrify from my silky glow
to a flaming luminescence, oddly juxtaposed
with the banality of your order, to bestow
upon you a conflicting moonlight transposed.

In thirty-three years, the pair of us will reconvene;
contemplative for now, the less tinted nights between.

@kwirb #30Days30Sonnets
September 27th 2015.

#30Days30Sonnets

Smiley’s Quagmire

  • by kwirb

SMILEY’S QUAGMIRE

There are hidden smiles in your every sizzled, cut word.
The more contemptuous the replied tone sliced by love,
as wings torn by wind’s fury from a crippled, flightless dove,
the more I am to behave placidly, as a taciturn blind bird.

But, I am but a tiny beast trilling from my chest furred;
scarring sounds silence my simpering sighs devoid of
emotional things that in itself make you unworthy of
fancying flights of wingless volitation deterred and unheard.

Although there are days when you grace me with your smile,
a sight so truly unique that surely no one would believe
my ramblings of supposed cracks in your face unbreakable,

it is still my belief that your intent is to beguile
my attention, if only for a while, as an orderly reprieve
to remind me that, though lamentable, you are irreplaceable.

@kwirb #30Days30Sonnets
September 26th 2015.

#30Days30Sonnets

Anthem, Incarcerated

  • by kwirb

ANTHEM, INCARCERATED

There is an intimate melody, a tuneful wreath,
whose lyrics escape your lips as whispers hissed,
sheathing your cavernous spirit and delicate teeth
with trivial whiffs of choral inflections reminisced.
The ardor of stuff you fail to describe hits bottom;
Measured in simple tones is a chorus of disclarity,
composed with verses, weakened as leaves in autumn,
polished proof of endless afterlife in familiarity.

This recognizable warble frequents your conscience.
Perhaps a natural theme for your ordinary life,
as you surround yourself in unceremonious nonsense,
this tune drones more of gripe than melodious strife.

True to form, this functional ballad will imprison
your dysfunctional lullaby from breakthroughs arisen.

@kwirb #30Days30Sonnets

So… To make things clear. This is about a song I couldn’t find the chords to on the internet. And it kind of annoyed me. If anyone knows the chords to “One Love” by the Carpenters, do send me a tell, lol.

#30Days30Sonnets

REMISSION (RE: Me, Shun)

  • by kwirb

REMISSION (RE: Me, Shun)

I am content with lesser poems that show
my lack of skill in rhyme and words that blend;
or when revision’d greater things are penned
with useless words and phrase’s endless flow.
Perhaps, in time, I will revise, although,
with metric phrase it often tends to bend
with rhymes or less; this poet’s pressings lend
some words of woe, thus, ending flow.

You seem to have the meters right (I guess),
but think of what these words convey to you
and if it’s worth “a good review” explored.
Perhaps you’re less of prodigy’s success
and more of vague and strange retorts that spew
amorphous blobs of turgid verbiage adored.

@kwirb #30Days30Sonnets

Joined a workshop / forum group where the moderators basically shit on people instead of giving feedback. Now, in fairness, they did warn ahead that they are ruthless — but when they purposely lock your post after giving feedback — meaning no one else can give you feedback nor can you respond to their query, it’s just wrong– because then it’s no longer a workshop; it becomes an avenue to bully others with their “superior knowledge” and shut the door in their face instead of, oh, I dunno, accepting revisions? I submitted Red Wine to them, someone had given me feedback, I revised it about a week later, and then a moderator chimed in, calling my sonnet an “amorphous blob of turgid verbiage”, then promptly locked the post, which has inspired me to write today’s sonnet using his own words, lol. Thanks, Howard M2! Also, according to this moderator, revisions are apparently only doable after a minimum of 6 months — and that he didn’t expect me to revise anything before April 2016. Like, wtf, bruh? Maybe I should go brood in a corner somewhere first for six months, cry about all sorts of meaningless crap, and come back 6 months later with better prose?

On a lighter note, if anyone can direct me to a better workshop, I’d super appreciate any feedback or recommendations. I’m part of AllPoetry.com, but I find the poets there are the polar opposite — being too nice instead of critical, lol.

As I said, I don’t mind the criticism — it’s an occupational hazard. What I cannot tolerate, is the locking of posts in a forum to prevent a) Other people giving you feedback and b) to re-assert their dominance in a field where they are apparently more superior to me, close a work-in-progress post, discard revisions, and flip me the proverbial bird. 

/EndRant

#30Days30Sonnets

Twit

  • by kwirb

TWIT

I keep looking for sunlight in dark nights
where the moon’s shine does not feed
my soul, nor do the stars that twinkle lead
me to paths beyond my grasp’s heights.
I need the effervescence of blinding lights
to engulf me in strength within my need
for meager whispers that seem to impede
my vision from the lacking, luminous lights.

Twilight falls and the darkness devours
your precious sunlight
and your pathetic quest for it;
if sunlight were to shine at these hours,
your useless moonlight
is then palpable as deplorable wit.

@kwirb #30Days30Sonnets

Written as a response to a CHALLENGE on AllPoetry.com, using the following writing prompt “I keep looking for sunlight in…” I kind of feel like I’m cheating by using a prompt but, in fairness, the rest of my poems this whole time were prompt-less, haha. And it’s day #23 of this, so I’m surprised I have had it in me somehow, lol. Thanks!

#30Days30Sonnets

Boulevards and Avenues

  • by kwirb

BOULEVARDS AND AVENUES

Do you remember our pensive, meager strolls
along the boulevards of Creation by my side?
How the absolute cadence in our exacting stride
wore down our shoes and socks to feet for soles?
Could you recognize, then, your own self-control’s
confines from, now, the falseness of your pride?
Or did you presuppose that I would misguide
you, fathomless, into these illusive black holes?

I remember walking, fearfully, somehow treading,
carefully, along perpetual avenues of the unknown.
I recall the breaths I held when facing temptations;
I dwelt deplorably upon my own scraped feet shredding
instead of reciprocating the loyalty You had shown,
rather, lamentably unseeing past inferior fixations.

@kwirb #30Days30Sonnets
September 22nd 2015.

#30Days30Sonnets

Vigor

  • by kwirb

VIGOR

There are times when your strength is not measured
by a set of skills or the ability to distill pain;
perhaps, in surviving the moments less-treasured,
your courage is the result of your limits sustained.

Brusquely, no. Abruptly, your threshold falters
– a breaking point shatters over its own edge –
and as you gather your bearings, absolution saunters
over and offers a choice or two from your ledge.

You accept his lifeless hand in exchange for a prayer,
for yourself, the faithless, and powerless to a God up high;
or, you use his strength to emerge, but only to his lair,
where you’d follow absolution to an unforgiving goodbye.

Our mortality, humble and relentless, must forego our egos
for our tenacity’s constant vigor is the vitality of credos.

@kwirb #30Days30Sonnets
September 21st 2015.

#30Days30Sonnets

Savage Me

  • by kwirb

SAVAGE ME

It attempted to skitter away from my mother’s grasp
with its claws agape it, naturally, yearned freedom.
To another such as it did it with precision clasp,
intent on, by chance, escaping to its fantasy Eden.

But it simply did not have the required speed,
just a destination, certainly, in mind to be traveled;
and, although it didn’t necessarily cry or bleed,
I’m sure it knew that its insides were to be unraveled.

It could not, nor would I, withstand being tortured,
having been boiled to a crimson doom blush of red.
If only I craved the garden offerings in the orchard;
Surely, harvesting never caused greens to have bled?

Pleading for its survival was its only endeavor.
In fairness, it was the most delicious lobster. Ever.

@kwirb #30Days30Sonnets
September 20th 2015.

Another late submission (2am!) Just got back from Maine… And I thought of this while my mother boiled the lobster. There’s something pathetically whimsical and probably morbid in writing a sonnet about animal torture. But, how else does one cook lobster? 

#30Days30Sonnets

Interstellar Adventure

  • by kwirb

INTERSTELLAR ADVENTURE

Join me on the starry road to my heavenly nebula
where the vivid colors explode into stars and constellations;
where all darkness illuminates from the sunburnt plethora
of dreams conceived through painless triangulations.

But the sights of splendor do little to achieve nirvana
when the atmosphere sings in harmony, deafening;
it’s rippling vibrations of melodious, positive karma
bountifully assuage our desolate souls’ leavening.

Our caged organs undulating in rhythmic mimicking
of a pulsating tempo (our combined seismic energies, perhaps?).
These potent musical promises invite the sights, riveting,
overwhelming our senses into its inevitably satisfied collapse.

Though my tuneful stardust’s allure may tempt you to forego reality,
for now, ever so fleetingly, we can embrace its sentimentality.

@kwirb #30Days30Sonnets
September 19th, 2015

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#30Days30Sonnets

Longevity

  • by kwirb

LONGEVITY

In life, we search for grander purposes
and a complimenting half to make us whole;
from wordless adventures to endless circuses,
they fill the lonely voids within our soul.

But not all of us, by chance, are lucky
to find another with whom to share our toils;
to trudge the pathways that increase in difficulty
and, eventually, reap the rewards of our spoils.

They say that we shouldn’t need to try too hard
to find that someone who renders us complete.
Yet, somehow, through kismet and little regard,
we’re meant to accomplish this ostensible feat.

Proudly, I can attest to this trying “impossibility”;
Halves can remain whole beyond the expected longevity.

@kwirb #30Days30Sonnets
September 18th 2015.

Dedicated to my parents, on their 38th wedding anniversary!