When space is silence…

Words, sounds, and space…


19 Comments

On writing a poem

You: How do you write a poem without knowing what to say?          

I start by attempting that impossible silence in my head    
while your question bounces with varying emphasis     
filling in that luxurious void so hard to come by    

The bounces start changing frequency    
sometimes they go into resonance    
sometimes they touch chaos    

Their fractals get confused and mutate into new words    
sounds under my hair that do not always make sense    

Then comes the conscious mind    
trying to understand the patterns in those sounds    
Out comes a verse stamped onto the white screen    
–white paper     occasionally    

A verse follows a verse
       asynchronously
like those bounces with a question mark
A stanza is formed        somehow  
followed by a second, third, sometimes a fourth one    
That silly conscious self comes back and deletes half of the words  

The tempo changes  
a short silence feels my spirit  

Some verses exchange places    
 some   get distorted  
others transmute into a butterfly or a frog   

An even shorter
                  silence 

Followed by dismissal of more words 

A thorough read 

More chaos 

Bliss: 

A poem has been written! 


_____Adriana Citlali
XXVII-XI-MMXIII


 

It’s open link night again, my poet friends. Join us at Week 124 | dVerse.

Advertisements


7 Comments

Moonlit chronicle

Snow outside my window
It’s Wednesday in November
2:21AM
No wind

Sleepless thoughts

I download the app
Adequate sleep? –it asks
I need negative numbers!
Sleeping time?
I hit zero
Tired?
Very
Would you rate us now or later?
I quit
–> DELETE

2:30AM
Snowdust in the balcony
Moonlight dancing
Two clouds
No cars

2:33AM
A girl walking home
Is she?
Footsteps
No heels

2:37AM
Clouded moon
Dark serenity
Cold breeze
No stress

Peaceful thoughts?
Maybe
Feeling cold?
A little
Would you sleep now or later?
Can’t tell
Time?
4:03AM
Bed?
OK


_____Adriana Citlali
XX-XI-MMXIII


 

It’s open link night at Week 123 | dVerse. Claudia is hosting the bar and just reminded us to connect with our own lives in the “art” we attempt to create.


7 Comments

Mystery of expansion

Her eyes are absence.
They live in the back of her head
seeking something hidden
               between
                               gravity
and the inconsistency of understanding a simple, yet incomplete, equation.

The neurons are moving briskly,
running away like dots in an  expanding  balloon.
Her eyes seek independent paths;
they get confused while selecting the domain that should be followed.

Everything is changing with pulses accelerating the beat of life.
One eye collapses right after a rainbow-colored explosion becomes attractive.
The other is rapt by dark energy and travels away faster than white rays.


_____Adriana Citlali
XVIII-XI-MMIII 
XVIII-XI-MMXIII


 

Sci-Fi poetry written for Poetics | dVerse.


7 Comments

Your mirror

She thought she was your mirror,
reflecting the light behind your irides
          –the thoughts you don’t share.

She thought you would see
those golden afternoon rays of light
transmuting your worries into magic.

She wanted to be the mirror
that let you see through
the winter and darkness;

the one that showed your kindness,
the beauty that scares you,
the strength you ignored,

the spring and the dawn
–the warmth you thought lost.

She was the mirror
you refused to look at.


_____Adriana Citlali
XXVII-XI-MMXIII


 

Today I listened several times to the beautiful and sweet song I’ll be your mirror by The Velvet Underground & Nico. It always makes me think of true love, because the mirror is aimed at showing the second person behind their own insecurities, fears,… On the other hand, I often wonder if the reflexion sent by the mirror is true to the soul of the reflected one, or if it is what the person-mirror wants to see.


15 Comments

American sentences in Norwegian winter

23:21    Exchange sanity for a stranger’s kiss. It’s an apple, bite it!


08:21    Reject the thought, forget the dream: reality –a daily routine.


19:21    Now wonder if this wind still remembers the warmth of his daring lips.


_____Adriana Citlali
XXV-XI-MMXIII


 

American sentences (17 syllables each) for Meeting the Bar | dVerse.