Poetry written 2017

letter-c day 51

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Typically I end with my song choice for today but…   Humans are not intended to be caged, we tend not to behave well.  But out of respect I will not take this conversation further because once you put it out there, it never goes away. Instead, let’s talk about these amazing guitar players, BB. King. Eric Clapton, Robert Cray, and Jimmie Vaughn instead of what’s really behind my song choice. I’m sure you’re familiar with the adage Silence is Golden.

“The thrill is gone
The thrill is gone away
The thrill is gone baby
The thrill is gone away
You know you done me wrong baby
And you’ll be sorry someday” ~ BB King

BB King recorded his version of the Thrill is Gone in 1969. I was a teenager just beginning to appreciate good music when I discovered BB. When it hit the charts it rose to number 3 on Billboard’s Hot 100, and became his popular hit of his career. It received a Grammy in 1998. I still love this song.

“I feel wonderful because I see
The love light in your eyes
And the wonder of it all
Is that you just don’t realize how much I love you”~ Eric Clapton

Eric Clapton’s You Look Wonderful Tonight is my favorite although he’s probably more known for his I Shot the Sheriff. Clapton is ranked 2nd in Rolling Stone’s top guitarist. Here I tend to lean toward Bob Marley’s version more than Clapton’s cover version. I guess it depends if you like reggae straight or with a touch of soft rock.  I remember seeing an interview where Marley said he changed the lyrics from I shot the police to I shot the sheriff to keep the radio stations happy.

“I get a constant busy signal
When I call you on the phone
I get a strong, uneasy feeling
You’re not sitting there alone

I’m having nasty, nasty visions
And baby you’re in every one, yeah
And I’m so afraid I’m gonna find you with
A so-called smoking gun”~ Robert Cray

Robert Cray’s Smoking Gun hit number 2 on Billboard’s Hot 100 in 1986. I simply fell in love with how he played the guitar more than the words to the song though there were times I wondered how I would feel if he was holding that smoking gun. 1986 was during the dark days of my first marriage, he accused me constantly of every thing under the sun. Cray performed as an opening act for Clapton in his early days and in his later days  played guitar on a few of Clapton’s releases.  I didn’t agree with the Rolling Stone’s snub for top 100 guitarist.

“Dengue woman
Stay away from me
Dengue woman
Stay away from me
You got your fever and your rash
Over me

That’s why
Everyday you bring me misery
Everyday you give me misery
I think about jumpin’
Jumpin’ in the deep blue see”~ Jimmie Vaughn

Jimmie Vaughn had the pleasure of opening for Jimi Hendrix. My first exposure to him was actually in the movie Blue Brothers 2000 where he played one of the fictional Louisana Gator Boys with BB King. I like his guitar skills, his political inclinations with Ron Paul not so much. Putting his political stupidity aside I still enjoy Dengue Woman. I love the sound of the guitar. Jimmie’s brother Stevie made the Rolling Stone’s list for guitarist before he was killed in a helicopter crash.

My friend Jeanne sent me a picture of a mojito this afternoon in a text. AH, now that sounds perfect for today. Aggravating the pancreas… is a negative, numbing the migraine is a positive. Bonus, if I drink enough I’ll numb all the other aggravation.img_3733

Doesn’t the mint and lime look good together. I love being able to pick fresh mint and adding it to water as well as to mojito’s. I’m so lucky it is growing so profusely in my rail planter.

Cancer Culinary toolkit:

Mint is a digestive aid, and it is antimicrobial as well as being rich in Vitamin c and beta-carotene.

 

Writing Today:

I’ve written a poetic response to a Stream of Consciousness prompt and another poetic response to a paint chip prompt in addition to reworking this poem that I originally wrote in 2017. Three poems today. Yay!

Lyn’s Last Journey
Her name hangs by a string
dangling from her big toe
protruding from a dark box.
Her unfinished obituary
lies on the ancient desk
shrouded in dust.
No one remembers
when she was more than mortal
but her.
Oh, how her howls rushed through
the leaves of time. It was a lonely
journey being her, the social misfit
trapped and helpless facing failure.
She endured days of misery.
Lies, incompetence,
and cruelty were the norm.
in the turbulent times
until that fatal flawed moment.
She never saw her end being
a mere string with a hand gripping
the gloomy box that holds what’s left
of her…Lyn, a figment in her own mind.

Dear Johnny,

Zac finished first yesterday with your name tribute on the hood leading the way.  Zac said Where to begin! Last night was a blast!! Had an awesome battle with Kyle Robinson in the feature, in the end we came home in First! Thank you so much to everyone who helps!  I watched Kim’s video feed of the race last night.

CJ had a lobster sandwich and red hot dogs at a place called a Bite of Maine in Virginia Beach for his 16th birthday dinner. He never had the opportunity to take them from the trap fresh and pop in the steaming pot like you. And those red hot dogs we’re so familiar with in Maine aren’t available here in Jersey either.

Gramma misses you.

Garden update:

I checked the garden out, phew the veggies fared really well. I did have to drain a few of the pots of the excess water but overall things went well. It’s 93 degrees here so it won’t take long to dry things back out but at least everything got a thorough rinsing. Husky 100’s, cucumbers and beans, and the zucchini all looking healthy. The husky 100 plant is almost taller than me. ( the middle circle) Crazy how big it got.

 

 

 

Does it inspire you, make you ask questions,

/ lyncrain / 1 Comment

or leave you with that cookie cutter ending all’s right in the world?

Last night in our local writing group we discussed a haiku for twenty minutes.A traditional Japanese haiku is a three-line poem with seventeen syllables, written in a 5/7/5 syllable count. Often focusing on images from nature, haiku emphasizes simplicity, intensity, and directness of expression. Imagine that twenty minutes of animated conversation over seventeen syllables. The group sitting at the table all had different perspectives on the piece. It was a philosophical poem by a younger poet in our group, he was trying different forms to expand his poetic skills. I was very happy to see and hear what he brought to the group after all isn’t that what makes us all great in our ways.

From the time we’re born we absorb information in all manners and that data is processed and stored for future use. As we age, we see it in action and reprocess it forming new skill sets. Writing, observing, reading, talking all are essential tools in a writer’s tool basket that must be continuously honed to improve our craft.

The question last night that arose is should the author end a poem providing the reader the answer or at the very least a strong clue as to the writer’s intent. My own opinion is no, The reader should fill in the necessary information, ask questions, ponder and then formulate their own conclusion. The author is only the instrument to guide the reader in the journey. The beauty of poetry is to take the reader from the darkness and hopefully awaken beauty in the reader’s mind. That ah ah moment when the reader feels connected to the author experiencing the moment or vision. Poetry opens the mind to possibilities outside of the daily norm to me.

My question to you is what do you feel poets should do?

Provide you a window to and let you decide what you’re seeing or provide you a window and the answer.

These are a few of my personal favorites my Buson, Jess, Waters and myself  I hope you enjoy:

The light of a candle
is transferred to another candle—
spring twilight.

Written by  Copyright © 2007 by Yosa Buson

my motto for life

                      – merit, not sympathy, wins-

my song against death.

E♭

i stroke piano’s

eighty eight mouths. each one sings

hot colors of joy

                                                                                                 F

pentatonic black

keys raise up high into bliss,

born to sing my name

                       F#

whippoorwill, hawk, crow

sing madrigals for blind men.

forests blooms through each note.
                                   G

my eyes: buried deep

beneath earth’s skin. my vision

begins in her womb.
                             B♭

darkness sounds like God

flowering from earth’s molten tomb…

writhed wind. chorded cries.

C

rain, flower, sea, wind

map my dark horizon. i

inhale earth’s songbook

written by Copyright © 2016 by Tyehimba Jess.

hitchhiker:

this ladybug

on my hand

written by Bill Waters Published in Brass Bell: A Haiku Journal

https://billwatershaiku.wordpress.com/2017/10/

Words boldly impressed
Scribbles upon broken soul
An author’s remorse

A frosty petal
stood strong alone at sunrise
a beacon to me.
 It begins today
Struggling flowers bloom thru ice
A joyous moment
3 Haikus Written by Lyn Crain

Quote and NaNoWriMo update

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“All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream.”~ Edgar Allen Poe

19,148 words thus far in Death and I, the story of Mairin, Bruce, and Death.

This weekend I wrote three found poems with snippets of the NY Times again. I had a great helper too. Macavity laid on the snippets and moved several which ended up being just what I needed. I used pieces of the different poems in my story with Mairin, too, so my cutting the newspaper became an exercise in creative thinking.

Phantom Threat

A family portrait for all humanity

blood, sweat, toil, and tears

unraveling racial hatred

prompts  crisis

in the darkest hours

of rivers and rituals

Happiness is for other people

those who stay

the once mediocre

seek some calm

apologize again

for them, it’s not discrimination

but

A war of words underway

The screaming just won’t stop

until

we seek our way to death.

*************************************************************************************

An enlightened friendship

when coffee brews a different spirit

in all its realness

speaks

Sweetness with a side of sarcasm.

*********************************************************

The metamorphosis

is an unwanted

brutal final indignity.

It penalizes what we had

in the

years of relying on what

no one knows.

The dots to greatness

remain unknown.

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Yup, he had a good idea. The coffee poem and the metamorphosis both improved with his help.

A quote and scraps of today

/ lyncrain / 1 Comment

 

“The woman who follows the crowd will usually go no further than the crowd. The woman who walks alone is likely to find herself in places no one has been before.” —Albert Einstein

I wrote 3295 words this morning. I got up at 6am and sat writing until noon. I didn’t move except to refill my coffee and to use the bathroom. I decided that I better move around some I worked on taking down Halloween and putting up Thanksgiving. It’s disappointing to me how few decorations there are.

Outside the house, all signs of Halloween have disappeared for another year. Hopefully, we will be living somewhere new by the time Halloween rolls around again. I’m looking forward to next the adventure. I put the scarecrows and the turkey by the front door. I hung a turkey on the storm door. The living room is packed up but that’s as far as I went today.

I decided to have raw veggies, some pepperoni and a cup of tea for dinner and work on the edits Raz sent back. I finished that and decided to work on some more writing. I lost all track of time, missed Grey’s Anatomy again. 😦 but I did churn out 3000 more words.

I haven’t re-read what I wrote yet. I’m happy with calling it a night. I’ll edit tomorrow. I just want to be ahead so I can some quality time with my husband.

I even started a crazy poem today that I’m going to use in my story Death and I

I toss another swig back

 feel my lips pucker and eyes bulge.

 I know there’s mascara streaks

 running down my face.

It hardly matters now.

I wish I’d known love

was cruel before

It played me like a fool.

I’m always wiser

when it’s too late.

 So liquor is my new love of choice

I drink your memory away

My friends warn me

drinking is a problem

that it will be the death of me.

Will that even matter?

who knew salvation’s possible

a sip at a time

 til bottle’s empty.©

 

 

Please use the following quote as inspiration

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From ghoulies and ghosties
And long-legged beasties
And things that go bump in the night,
Good Lord, deliver us!

~Scottish Saying

 

This is where my mind went with that saying.

A Prayer

Imagine having your own village ghost
Happily haunting your guest room
Joining you for a bit of wine and pot roast
But will you be safe on this night of doom

Imagine having ghouls rise from the grave
Chasing the unlucky ones until they scream
Beasties howling from a nearby cave
Joining their forces, they make a good team

Imagine hearing things go bump in the night
When you would rather be sleeping
Everyone knows Hallow’s eve is a demons delight
Come All Saints Day, will you be safe in Gods keeping?

Getting Myself Prepped for NaNoWriMo

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There are so many things to establish in the background to assure continuity in a book that hadn’t crossed my mind until I began this undertaking. It made me appreciate all the authors I’ve read in my lifetime. Wow!

I feel reasonably comfortable with my conflicts and my protagonist. I have several minor antagonists and one major one who will definitely make his handsome presence known. Putting pictures on my character trait list did help. I found looking at them and imagining how they would handle different complications enjoyable. Yesterday, I worked on my antagonist, oh he’s  handsome and dangerous. I looked at a lot of pictures of men before deciding I really like how Patrick Dempsey looked in all black, I could easily see him as my Thanatos.Thanatos1

Now, I’m working on an outline I’ll be comfortable working with over the next month. Who knew there would be so many different types– Snowflake, 3-point,  5-point, 8-points, traditional bullet point, Vogler’s, Campbell’s, pure summary, skeletal outlining, flashlight outlining, free writing, visual mapping, contextual prepping and of course all the different software for outlining. Yikes, it’s confusing.

I’ve been reading Vogler’s Writer’s Journey and Campbell’s The Hero With a Thousand Faces. Some days I feel like I read more than I write because it’s all part of the process of fine tuning my craft. And naturally, everyone has a different take on successful writing techniques.

My setting was pretty easy I’ve created a fictional town in Maine called Bayhollow, the next town over is a college town called Stone Lake with a university called Kampden University. There’s an active military base about 10 miles away in a town called Deadzone. All of these locations are very near the Canadian border.

On WDC they have prep challenge which thus far has kept me to the task which I’m finding helpful because it’s all new to me. Also, there’s the lingering dread 50,000 words hovering too. I find comfort in seeing familiar names pledged to do NaNoWriMo. Misery does love company.

I was reading Theresa’s blog this morning and thinking about how I overcome writing challenges. My go to is my camera when nothing else works. There is something about looking through the portal of small space that makes my muse happy. My perspective is different and very targeted.

The other day while I was creating my setting I had been gathering all the logistics like population, restaurants, and businesses. (world building) I took a break and caught up on reading blogs. Yes, I’m guilty of reading and not always leaving comments. But in this instance, Theresa had drawn a fence on a white background with shading to give the impression of winter or even a sandy beach. I took it as winter in my mind and I saw my protagonist breaking down on a back road and trodding along this seemingly endless fence. The timing was perfect for my muse because it sparked another opportunity for frustration in what seems like mountains on her journey to better her life. Thank you Theresa.

Another way I open my mind to writing is cutting the newspaper into shreds, readable shreds. I grab random titles and move them around I create a poem or a line that fits perfectly in what I’m working on that may have never crossed my mind.

 

The first poem could easily be part of a conversation my protagonist has and the second could be a fearful moment added to the scene in the cemetery.  Muses work in interesting ways as Barber Adagio for Strings by the London Philharmonic Orchestra plays in the background.

I do enjoy having dark classical playing in the background. What can I say my muse is a bit twisted.

My compost bin enjoys all the snippets of paper when I’m done so everything has a purpose if you open yourself to the possibilities.

The Skeletal Corpse

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DSC_0957 (2)_LI
The Skeletal Corpse

 

Eyes flare bold red inside the extended dark head
with a huge glistening white-toothed smile.
Wispy smoke swirls hide the body in front of the
pentagram etched in a brazen satanic style.
My neck hair stands up straight in protest to
the sound of nails raked across the granite.
Ew, a smell of rotted meat and cheap perfume
I can’t imagine what created this nasty cesspit.
The earth shudders as the moon briefly appears
from behind the dark sky. The brittle and decayed bones,
what’s left of a  body is so close
clearly in my view.
I try to back up, but my feet are frozen.
His bony fingers clench my left ankle painfully
I scream frantically, I hope someone hears me before my
throat gives out. I tug, twist and kick to no avail,
My ankle is firmly in his grasp, I sense my end is near.
A deep, gravelly growl suddenly breaks the eerie silence, I whisper
Help me. His painful grasp loosens as he contemplates his new prize.
 I tug myself free. I’m so exhausted I can’t move.
The low growls are so close, I step back, it’s hard to stand.
Gravelly voice whispers to me, run when I command thee.
Blood-curdling screams, a moan filled with annoyance, and loud thuds
made it so hard to hear the raspy voice as the battle ensued.
Run, Run, run fast and don’t look back
I stumble several times before I make it to the house
I lock the doors and wonder when it will end.
Tick, tick, tock, tick, tick, tock damn, I hate that clock
Knife in my hand, hidden in the darkness I wait
Tears trickle down my face, I am relieved to be free
but a sense of dread lingers as I await my fate.

Is There A Song For That

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Is there a song for that?
The words say I can’t go there.
I need to find a way to be cool.
I thought I could touch this place
but instead, I felt like a fool.
Is there a song for that?
Ain’t no talking to this man!
What’s he trying to say?
He tweets before his brain engages!
My mother warned me about this day.
Is there a song for that?
The words say I can’t go there.
I need to find a way to be cool.
I thought I could touch this place
but instead, I felt like a fool.
Is there a song for that?
Lyric by lyric I looked for love,
I thought if I could only sing my way,
I would find myself in the melodies.
Don’t let me down, I’m too tired to stay!
Is there a song for that?
Ain’t no talking to this man!
What’s he trying to say?
He tweets before his brain engages!
My mother warned me about this day.
Is there a song for that?
Patti Griffin says yeah girl there is!
Don’t whine that you never get what you want
But… but it’s all my fault!
Girl, get ready for a new jaunt
Is there a song for that????…

 

The Lady Don’t Look Back!w/c 216  31 lines

The Painless Truth

/ lyncrain / 3 Comments
There is a crazy contest going on Writing.Com and the prompt for the writing challenge was to write a dark poem answering this question Is death unpleasant?
This is where my mind went after remembering the question life asked death.

The Painless Truth

Is death unpleasant
To have no yesterday
no tomorrow
Sounds inviting to me
I know death is a distant rumor
to you who are young
But not for me,
I long
To forget time,
to forget life
to finally find peace
I’ve flown as high as I’m flying
Our lives will end the same way
Only a few mere details will differ
But you ask why love death
instead of loving life
Life is filled with beautiful lies
Death is the painless truth
and
Truth matters the most to me.

93 w/c including title