Short Warm-up Poem

At night

They sleep

He moves

He creeps

Through tents

Like a dream

He moves

He sees

His goal.

He takes

What’s theirs

And now

They’re his

He’ll forge

His name

All by

Himself,

Alone.

And when

They come

He’ll let

Them come

He knows-

They don’t.

Something’s moving

Something’s brewing

Something’s in

His bones.

Just a quick jaunt I did today in preparation for a short story that may or may not get off the ground. It isn’t my usual four-line stanza deal that I almost always use, so I was happy with this for how quickly I laid it down. Now to get to bed; ear;y day tomorrow.

A study in Haiku

For the past few days it’s been raining. 72 hours of non-stop drizzles, drips and downpours. Truly terrible stuff going on and it inspired me. Maybe not inspired; more like angry. Infuriated is more like. Up until a little bit ago the rain continued unabated. I was going stir crazy in the worst possible way. Not only did I not feel like going out, but even if I did, I couldn’t. What’s worse, I couldn’t take my dogs out. So the three of us have been sitting inside, slowly letting the insanity take us over.

Luckily today the rain finally let up(albeit temporarily), but before it did it inspired a poem that I jotted down. Which then lead me(as it often does) to thinking about poetry in general. Now, I’m by no means an expert in poetry. Far from it, but I AM an expert in me and things I like. And I like the things poetry does in my mind. All the nuance and rhythms and beats and RHYMING. Because, let’s face it, poetry has to rhyme. If it doesn’t then what is it? A little fancier prose. Some fancier rhythm than mundane sentences. Elegant speech, really. No more than that. I’ve been over this before, I don’t want to beat a dead, pet-peeve-y horse, so here’s my haiku. It’s in traditional 5-7-5 form, BUT it has rhythm, rhyming and other fancy poetic things. And guess what, I stuffed all that into 17 syllables. Is it perfect? No, of course not. I can be humble AND a little pretentious. MY poetry has to rhyme, not everyone shares my opinion, but not everyone———–(line deleted. If you can’t say anything nice, better to leave it unsaid).

So the haiku:

The rain, driving me

insane. Pitter-pat; I can’t

Photo from Google Image Search. This is how I've felt the last three days. Only not as well dressed.

Photo from Google Image Search. This is how I’ve felt the last three days. Only not as well dressed.

stand it anymore.

Not terribly impressive, the haiku. Not just mine, I think, haikus (does the ‘s’ make it plural? I can never remember.) in general can be a little lackluster owing to the fact that they are, in total, just seventeen short syllables. One thing I really enjoy about them is their incredibly short life-span. They are with us for but an instant and then gone again, quick as thought. Three short(very short) lines to convey emotion and a message before you reach the end. I’ve seen some pretty creative ones. None that I can recall right now, but I remember in the past reading a few that stuck with me longer than the normal whisper that they are.

Every word has to be chosen carefully. Synonyms play heavily into their construction. You not only have to find the word that conveys rightly and truly what you mean. You also have to make sure the word fits into the puzzle that is the strict ‘syllabic-rule’ that the haiku must comply to.

Choosing the right word is important for all writing, not just haiku. Every word(if the author is worth his or her salt) should have at least some weight to it. Without that weight to anchor it into the ocean that is the story/poem/song then the word simply drifts away and out of the reader’s mind. And what we’re left with is a swiss cheese story. And no one really likes swiss cheese; its a little gross.

I guess what I’m getting at is the fact that I like poetry(provided it rhymes, of course) and I like thinking about things too much. Also, if it isn’t clear by now, I need to get out more. Oy.

Warm up Poem.

This is a little piece I did moments ago in preparation to write some ‘actual’ words in my story. I’ve written a prologue, sure. And I’ve done a pretty decent outline(that isn’t yet finished, but I have to move on), but I haven’t plunged into the meat of the st0ry yet. So that’s happening right after this post goes up. Anyway, fair warning, this poem is bad. I know, you’ll know it, if you choose to read it. But still I’m posting it. I think it’s good to get the bad out with the good. It forces you to be better. Everyone sitting there and judging its merit makes you really take stock. Now, I already know it’s bad, so I don’t need telling. But it’s good to have it up as a reminder anyway. Because, even though it may be bad, guess what: it’s still DONE. And getting things done is what I want to be about. So here it is, in all it’s awful glory. Enjoy?

Their journey begins and they know not where they’re headed.

Only one has a faint idea of what can be expected.

But he dares not say for the truth will break his oath-

An oath so old and strong, breaking it would kill them both.

And so one holds his mouth fast, while the others won’t let theirs yield.

The secrets his father kept from his charge died with him in that field.

Yet, he knows that he must tell him, but for now he stays quiet.

Lest his oath of old come back on him and haunt him the rest of his nights.

Sleepy Haiku

I’m sure I’m dreaming.

I’m not? Who knows? Who cares? I’m

asleep now, so there.

I don’t usually like reading haikus since they have such a hard time subscribing my ‘poetry must rhyme’ rule, but trying to fit a rhyme scheme into such a small space is difficult indeed. I like the challenge. Maybe there’ll be more of these little guys in the future. But for now, as the rhyming haiku states: It’s time for sleep.

A not-that-good Warm up Poem

Just another quick warm-up poem. I’m not very happy with it, but I got from it what I needed to. My head is a little more ‘in the zone’ of the particular world I’m getting ready to write in. So these are still helping me, even if they’re bad. The structure was what I liked the most, A nice 4/2/4/2/4/2 pattern with the second half of the ‘4’ stanzas rhyming and both lines in the ‘2’ stanzas rhyming. I tend to stick to pretty basic structures when writing poetry. I’m going to have to experiment with some more ‘out of the box’ structures and rhyme schemes. But they’ll still have to rhyme. Because when something don’t rhyme, then poetry it ain’t!

Cheers.

P.S. If anyone has a counter-argument to my ‘Poetry must rhyme’ rule, then please hit me up. I’d love to get a discussion going. Maybe I’m missing something that a lot of people seem to be clued into. But, for me, it just doesn’t work. Nor does it make sense. On very rare occasions I’m sure I’ve read poetry that doesn’t rhyme, BUT has fantastic rhythm. And that’s something I could see me allowing a pass. But most of it just seems like sloppy, stumble-y prose.

 

 

They told me I couldn’t do it,

“There’s no way to create strong AI.”

They said I should take a break,

“For god’s sake, your daughter just died!”

But for all of their protests and shouts and laments

I went ahead with my work and hit many dead ends.

It was a trial. It was frustrating,

my wife now nowhere to be found.

“No, she’s not feeling well,” I’d say,

But I’d know she was in a glass; trying to drown.

I was drowning to, but drowning in work.

Trying to stay busy was my only resort.

In the end it was a success

On my part, at least.

We’d finally created

That final piece.

But, here, the time came to deal with the past,

But too late for that, And the future, too, is trashed..

Warm up-Robopoem

I looked into her eyes: those cold calculators.

She couldn’t be responsible, she’s my daughter; not a traitor.

Then she gives me a grin that wakes me from my revel.

I realize her capacity is beyond any level

I ever anticipated,

Courtesy of Google Images. Not really close to what I wanted. But visuals still help with things like this.

Courtesy of Google Images. Not really close to what I wanted. But visuals still help with things like this.

or could ever hope for.

She’s exactly what I’d wanted.

She’s exactly why we’re all done for.

I made her in her image and I realize my mistake.

I grew much to close, I didn’t see the hate

She began to develop for all of us just because of me;

All these tiny things all because I couldn’t see

the pain that she was in

or the sadness there inside.

The last thing I see

is the pain there in her eyes…

Not a terrible shot. Didn’t expect the rhythm to work out so well, but there it is. now, time for actual writing.

Warm up poem that went nowhere.

So last night I had the hankerin’ to get some writing on the novel done. So I settled in to ‘sketch’ out a quick warm up poem. The poem wasn’t the worst, but it was nearing ten pm when I started, so by the time I finished it was time for bed. But here it is anyway:

Hide the Flame

In through the nose,

Breathe slow. Slow.

Out the tips of your fingers

Let the flame grow.

 

Now breathe out,

Let the anger build.

The anger leftover

For those they killed.

2013-08-16 08.04.40

Realized I hadn’t been properly crediting my photos. Basically, if they aren’t my photo, you can safely assume they’ve come from google images.. I never was one for bibliographies.

 

 

Feel it. Use it.

Burn it all away.

Fire consumes you

In its angry flame.

 

Pull back now

Before it’s too late!

Rage unchecked

Is an uncontrollable state.

 

Smoldering, exhausted,

Lay down and sleep.

Let the dreams help you forget

The fury you keep

 

Locked away

Until the time is right.

Blaze tomorrow

Smolder tonight.

Poem-A warm up.

A lot of artists like to warm up with a quick sketch before they go about laying some serious pencils down. I don’t know a lot of authors who do the same thing. But I decided to try it out today to kind of get in the specific ‘zone’ I was trying to reach before I brainstormed on some story ideas I’m working on. I’m pleased with the result. It seemed to have cut down on that time I have before I write something that’s just my brain trying to switch gears. I’ll keep trying it out and messing with it and see how things go. Anyway, a new poem, totally unedited and off the top of my head written a bit ago just before I set to writing. Enjoy!

 

 

The First

The first ever created./They were so proud./ They couldn’t believe what they’d done.

Now there it was/ one-of-a-kind!/Able to think and speak…and run.

And so it did,/it ran straight away./ Not a thought in it’s head: save one.robot fear

Why am I here?/What purpose have I?/Can anyone answer this? Anyone?

No reply came/so the running continued./Always towards the sun.

Then it suddenly stumbled into the rubble./And it found there the means to take one…

…and make another one.