Poem 3 – Survivor

This was my 3rd poem and probably my favorite. Too many women in my life have been sexually assaulted. I can’t even begin to imagine what someone feels when they go through this. It should never happen, let me just say that from the get go. I hate that it happens and I will die defending someone in this situation. I tied to put it into words as best I could. Much of this comes from input from a number of different women. As always, please, please, please give me feedback.

Raindrops splattering my face

like tears,

but my eyes are dry;

nothing more for me to give.

The storm clouds rage above,

lightning flashes,

thunder crashes.

I’m all alone,

adrift in shame.

Blood runs down my leg,

a trickle.

I shift my dress to cover

my guilt.

This was my fault,

at least that’s what I was taught.

I’m angry, hurt,

why can’t I just die?

But I must go on,

dust off my clothes,

look in a different direction,

while locking my secret away.

A lump gathers

in my throat, blocks the airway

cutting off my breath.

I collapse.

The soft grass caresses me, the sun’s

welcoming embrace pulls me

from the ground, guides me forward

casting the storm aside, brightening

the otherwise gloomy day.

Life suddenly blossoms, birds

chirping, insects buzzing,

breathing new life into my soul.

A burbling stream gathers

my attention. Wading in

the biting, cold water attacks

my legs and feet,

but it isn’t all bad.

A ribbon of dirt, sweat, and blood

floats

downstream, away from me like

the river is cleansing my soul.

I’ll remember this day

forever,

the day a man assaulted me,

and tore away my innocence.

Poem 2 – The Dirt

So, here is the second poem I chose to edit for my class. If you don’t know what I am talking about, read my previous post, lol. I am always looking for feedback, so please give me some.

Impractical people,
permeating Earth,
hoarding wealth
and possessions,
like they can take
them to the afterlife.
Money doesn’t travel with
them, nor will their assets,
or other accumulations.
So why so much effort
to hoard these in life?
When life snuffs out,
each person the same.
Status won’t matter
nor the wealth they
made during their life.

I will reclaim them
because they are mine.
No place to escape,
nowhere they can hide.
Their fate always the same.
From the Earth they come,
part of the Earth I am.
Their corpse planted in me,
or burned, tossed in the wind.
One with me they become.

Poem 1 – Of Love

People who follow me know I am pursuing my Master’s in Professional Fiction Writing. I had to take some elective courses and just completed a course in poetry. I’ve posted a couple of poems recently, but I just received feedback on my final versions. I made changes based on feedback from my fellow classmates, as well as my professor. In all, I wrote 10 poems for the class. 5 of them we had to submit for final grading, as well as a rather long reflection paper. There were guidelines each week. I wrote some in a more traditional format, but my professor suggested they would be better if I broke tradition. So my efforts to conform, resulted in me breaking all the rules, lol. This was the first of my poems. I would appreciate any and all feedback as I know this is only the beginning in regards to poetry.

Of Love

Nervous hands, dancing feet.
Infatuation filling the hole in
my heart, I didn’t know was there:
empty, gaping, cataclysmic.
Love radiates outward, like
the warmth of the sun, tugging,
entwining our souls ever further:
one body, inseparable.
Even in love there’ll be arguments
and anger, veering us off course,
all building to a precipice:
rocky, unbalanced, broken.
She is the love of my life,
yet, she pushes my buttons.
Discontinue our love now, or
jump into the deep abyss together?

Life After Death

Those who follow me know I am working on my Masters in Professional Fiction Writing through the University of Denver (Go DU!). Anyway, I have never been into poetry, but I had to take three electives and decided to take a class on poetry. I figured I should push myself, and that is what I am trying to do.

In week 2, we had to take and idea that was near and dear to our heart and transform it into a poem. I have had too many women in my life affected by rape,  I just knew this was what I had to put on my canvas. So I wrote a poem, which you will see below. I had a meeting with my professor the following week and he suggested that I get feedback from women. Before posting it, I had already run it by my wife, but next week is week 10, and I need to turn in revised versions of all my poems.

So, I need women to comment and offer feedback. I know I am a man and can never truly understand the pain that is associated with such an act.  But I do feel for those who have been victimized and would like to make it a life goal to stop such things from happening. This can be tough, and I can respect those who wish to remain silent, but for those who have gone through these heinous acts, I am with you and would like to draw attention to the shit hole that this truly is. So if you are comfortable with it, I can use any and ALL feedback you can offer. It will be completely anonymous. I need the feedback and am only looking for comments. I appreciate the support.

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Raindrops splattering my face like tears,

only my eyes are dry;

I can’t give any more.

The storm clouds above rage,

as lightning flashes, mimicking

my internal thoughts and feelings.

I brought this on myself, or so I was taught.

At least that’s what my granny would say.

Smoothing my dress to cover the bloodstains on my panties,

I try to climb to my feet, but can’t.

It hurts. I hurt. But I know I must go on,

it’s what we’re told,

dust off your clothes,

and look in a different direction,

all the while keeping a little secret.

With conviction, I make it to my feet,

pressing forward, as I will in life.

This won’t be the end of me.

I will not allow this situation,

define who I am, for I am strong.

A lump gathers in my throat,

blocking my airway,

cutting off my breath, and I collapse.

The soft pillow of grass caresses me,

and the warm embrace

of the Sun’s welcoming yellow arms,

pulls my head from the ground,

guiding me forward with resolve.

The reemergence of the sun

brings out the birds and insects.

My cheerleaders whispering this isn’t my fault,

The man is a predator, nothing but scum gathering beneath my feet.

I yearn for a warm tidepool,

to wash this filth away,

but water won’t help,

only the bite of cold steel will.

The Jungle

I’m in a poetry class and we needed to write the same poem but in two different formats: metric and cadence. I’m still early in the revision process, but which do you prefer and do you have any suggestions?

The Jungle (metric)

Tall masts, a beacon flowing in a sea

of green, stretching to the heavens, reaching

arms pleading with the Gods, a chance maybe,

to put this in the rearview, beseeching

the higher power to remove the pain,

for every one felled, I now must feign.

 

There is no more, only incompetence.

Bleats surrounding, lessening our breath,

methane filling the air, no bottomless

source. Each fallen brethren, another death.

We do not mourn, you’ve done this to yourself,

You never cared for the shrinking ice shelves.

 

The Jungle (cadence)

You see a tall mast, maybe a beacon, flowing in a

sea of green,

arms outstretched, reaching toward the almighty heavens,

pleading with the Gods for a chance

to put an end to this nonsense, and the encroaching

herd, a nuisance

eating their way through the life force, encouraging

a beseeching to the all mighty, anyone, to answer the call,

to make things right, and return to the Earth

a moment without blight, where you mourn the dead,

and cherish what has been returned to continue your life.

 

Your call goes unanswered, you’re fighting for your life,

not for lack of meat, but because livestock is your greed,

but the lack of trees,

is lessening the oxygen from the air you breathe,

giving you the replacement of methane,

which you do know is fatal, but as long as your stomach is full,

who are you to judge?

So cut down the trees, forget what they mean.

Burn them in your fires and fill the air with hydrocarbons,

for humans will live long after the rest of the Earth expires.

Emergent Reader

Hey, so I had to write an emergent reader for my Children’s Literature class. We had to use only a list of 40  Dolch Pre-Primer Words. We could not change tense and we could not use words outside this list. It would be so much better with images, but here is what I wrote. Please note, since I couldn’t use words outside of the 40 Dolch words, I used colors instead of names.

 

One is me.
Two is you and me.
Three is you and you and me.
Can you see it?
We three play.
We three run.
We jump up.
We come down.
Yellow is here.
Where is red?
I look to see.
Red is not here.
I jump with yellow.
I come down.
Where is yellow?
I look to see.
I see me.
Little is me.
Big is we.
We is you and you and me.

Not Your Grandma’s Vampire

I know… not a great title, but I wanted to be catchy.

My most recent novel released in print back in February. It is now live in eBook format. So for those of you who are like me and only order books electronically, the wait is finally over.

Enough propaganda (I’m sure we’re all sick of that with what is going on here in the U.S.) and on to the point. I’ve read many vampire stories. They are all very interesting, but it seems things haven’t changed with the rest of society. Most stories are the same concepts set forth by Bram Stoker in 1897. I think, Stephanie Meyer tried to make a more modern vampire with Twilight, but it was all very PG and cheesy (IMO, and before the Twilight fans come back at me, I’ve read all the books, and watched all the movies, and in all honesty, I enjoyed them). This isn’t a post to rip apart her work. I was entertained. But after a Twilight binge watching session with my wife (and not the first time we watched the movies), I gave her my thoughts on vampires. When I think of vampires, I think of sex, blood, alcohol, drugs, etc. But at the same time, I wanted to be different. This was the idea for The Vampire’s Curse.

I gave my wife my own ideas and she told me I should make it into a story. Two months later came NaNoWriMo and I said “Fuck it! Let’s do this.” I wanted to stay true to Bram’s original idea, but I wanted to modify it. In The Vampire’s Curse, the vampires are very similar to ordinary people. The sleep like humans, they don’t burn up from the Sun. They exist within human society and try to keep their identities a secret. They were created by Lucifer in rebellion of his fate. But God created his own minions to counter the vampire’s of Earth. I’m going on a tangent, but what I tried to create was a unique vampire story. They use magic. They exist, although hidden in modern society. They have even infiltrated the oval office. I wanted to create a non-PG vampire story and I think I was successful (although you all could tell me otherwise.) I wanted to create an MC that was a mix of Deadpool, but yet still a vampire. He’s not a superhero, and in fact finds trouble around every corner.

So if any of this sounds intriguing, please check out The Vampire’s Curse: Life Eternal. And there will be more. I’m currently working on the next book.

Here is a link to the physical book

And Amazon hasn’t linked the two versions yet, but if you are looking for the eBook, you can get a copy here

Also, don’t forget to visit my website and be sure to sign up for my mailing list.

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