paradelle

The other day while reading Billy Collins, I found this lovely poem titled Paradelle for Susan. It goes like this: I remember the quick, nervous bird of your love. I remember the quick, nervous bird of your love. Always perched on the thinnest, highest branch. Always perched on the thinnest, highest branch. Thinnest love, remember the quick branch. Always nervous, I perched on the highest bird the. It is time for me to cross the mountain. It is time for me to cross the mountain. And find another shore to darken with my pain. And find another shore to darken with my pain. Another pain for me to darken the mountain. And find the time, cross the shore, to with it is to. The weather warm, the handwriting familiar. The weather warm, the handwriting familiar. Your letter flies from my hand into the waters below. Your letter flies from my hand into the waters below. The familiar waters beneath my warm hand. Into handwrtiting your weather flies you the letter from the. I always cross the highest letter, the thinnest bird. Below the waters of my warm, familiar pain, Another hand to remember your handwriting. The weather perched for me on the shore. Quick, your nervous branch flew from love. Darken the mountain, time and find was my into it was with to to. Now, while the poem wasn't my favorite (the ending seemed almost careless.. but, hey! There were birds it in it!) I fell in love with the form. It's called a paradelle, and while Collins claimed it was a French form developed in the 11th century, he later admitted that he had created it himself (Oh, how I love him). In a paradelle, the first and second, and third and forth lines of the six line stanzas are identical. The fifth and sixth lines are made using the words above, and only those words. This continues for three stanzas, until the fourth, where you use every word in the past three stanzas. Of course, I decided I needed to try it. So here's mine.. please note that it is flawed in the sense that I may not have included EVERY SINGLE WORD. However, I was pretty proud of the third and last stanza, in which I did use all words. And I am honestly sorry it's about birds. I'm not sure why I've liked them so much lately.. maybe because it's almost spring. But I think the bird thing is almost out of my system, so bear with me. Paradelle for Billy Collins The bird that sleeps outside my window is the wind and seasons to me The bird that sleeps outside my window is the wind and seasons to me He is morning sun in the day and the salty stars at night He is morning sun in the day and the salty stars at night The sleep in my night is too salty and seasoned. The window in the day is the sun, the stars, that bird. He winds me at morning. His song of velvet runs tight circles around my room His song of velvet runs tight circles around my room My own voice is rough and sandy beside his My own voice is rough and sandy beside his Own my/his tight, velvet voice. My/his song circles beside sandy room and around rough run. And when he flies away quick, I'll be content alone And when he flies away quick, I'll be content alone In his cage that set me free In his cage that set me free When content flies free, I'll be set away in his cage. He that quick, and me alone. My cage is rough whispers of velvet and circle days. Wind set the seasons to sleep alone, and me quick in my night. Content voice beside sandy stars and salty sun at his own room, he flies away free, that bird. The window is his song around me, the run in my tights forgotten. And that's when I'll be his.

long rant poem inspired by birds that i didn't revise

Maybe you could give me
some time of yours
the extra stuff
that you wouldn't mind filling
with a girl like me.
No. Really, I want the time
you spend tying your shoes
you spend to yourself
you spend on those silly girls
that you like to think like you
though we both know
you wouldn't glance twice.

Am I one of them?
Just another silly sparrow flitting about and singing
identical sappy stupid
songs into those pretty
pretty ears of yours?
He doesn't think so, you know.
He sees me as bird of paradise
my song too sweet too strong too sultry
to grace those ordinary
ordinary ears of his.

I choose you, of course.
Your yellow eyes
your inky oily feathers
your able angled beak.
Because my heart is blemish free
squeeky clean
crammed with nooks and crannies
for every piece of you.
It begs to be tested
to be twisted
to be torn to itty bitty pieces
and to be tossed into the wandering wind
so I can fall
like petals
onto a flightless world.

oh i hate you some, i hate you some, i love you some

hello. i am aware it has been a while since i last posted, probably longer than expected from an avid blogger such as myself (ha). i am sorry to inform you that i presently have no new work worth posting, seeing as i am having a bit of a "block". however, i think the best way to be inspired to write is to read the work of other writers. so, if you would like to, take a moment and enjoy some beautiful words by Billy Collins and maybe listen to a little Joni Mitchell while you do so.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QaqVWY3wYdQ

"No, the medieval theologians control the court.
The only question you ever hear is about
the little dance floor on the head of a pin
where halos are meant to converge and drift invisibly.

It is designed to make us think in millions,
billions, to make us run out of numbers and collapse
into infinity, but perhaps the answer is simply one:
one female angel dancing alone in her stocking feet,
a small jazz combo working in the background.

She sways like a branch in the wind, her beautiful
eyes closed, and the tall thin bassist leans over
to glance at his watch because she has been dancing
forever, and now it is very late, even for musicians."

-from Questions About Angels

Optimist

One day I lay in the grass
as white clouds congregated overhead
but I wasn't angry
because it's just those silly silver linings weighing them down.
That day I sat in my chair
as a glass stood before me, half full
but murky and poisoned
and I wished it was empty.

So today I'll fly on my fragile wings to those clouds
and peel away those pesky silver coils
so those clouds can fly too.
And then I'll tip that cup with a clumsy, dainty elbow
and I'll leave that toxic puddle on my floor.
Then I will lie beneath that naked sun
with a glass full of air to my right
and a smile for a mouth.

Knots

I met you in the purgatory of night and day,
Somewhere along the sea and the sand.
With that first smile, we were bound together in thread
With that fist kiss, we were tether by twine
With that first "love", we were shackled in wires
And then we were entwined.
But as we danced along that summer in our naked feet,
We turned to find we were tangled.

Now, if I tried to fly
I'd have to take you along.
You would hang from our strings and glare up at my wings
You would cry and your tears could soak an ocean.
I bet I could ignore you,
If I kept my eyes on that weary horizon.
And maybe one day I'd cut you free

So you could fall into her arms.

Make it Mine

"Wake up everyone! How could you sleep at a time like this?... unless the dreamer is the real you. Listen to your voice, the one that tells you to taste past the tip of your tongue. Leap in, the net will appear."
-Jason Mraz

Storm

I want you
the way a decaying typewriter
wants fingers telling a story of romance
after thirty years forgotten.

I want you

the way a pine sappling

wants summer's sweet smile

while it endures a foot of crisp snow.

I want you
the way a half-empty half-gallon of milk
wants to be poured into a glass beside a cookie
before it's past the date of expiration.

I don't think I need you.

Of course, the line
between desire and necessity
is finer than the line
between the sea and the sky.

And some days there's no line at all.