When Does A Heartbeat Stop Beating?

I've been experimenting with beats and rhythm within a poem, and this is the results that I have gathered. This isn't just a poem that you simply read through in one brisk look. You need to actually understand how the poem must be read. So I challenge you to read this poem to the rhythm of your heartbeat, and then read it to a song (doesn't matter what song), and then read it any way you desire. What kind of experience to you receive?

Time keeps tumbling

Tumbling

Tumbling

Time keeps tumbling

down.

Time keeps running

Running

Running

Time keeps running

around.

I drop to the ground

Ground

Ground

I drop to the ground.

Until I have found

Found

Found

Until I have found

my breath.

Any Final Words?

"Spilled Coffee" from WordPress

Nearing the edge of the page

My ink quill threatens to flee

My mind cringes at the sight

My hair stands upside down.

Do I dare to write the final word?

Is it really something worth sharing?

Perhaps a mug of coffee will tell,

Or perhaps it may not.

A drip of caffeine falls from my lip

Splattering on the page in slow motion

My heart beats faster and faster

Not my masterpiece! Not now!

I shouldn't have taken any chances

I should have written that last word

Now time will never know what it was

Now there is a dried up stain on the page.

Nearing the edge of sanity now

The ink blotches the page now

It's skewed into a magnificent oblivion

Now, I need time to think.

Why didn't I write that final word?

Is it really up to destiny to determine?

Perhaps there is enlightenment to all of this,

Or perhaps there was not.

Writer's Note: Please don't forget to check out my new flash fiction website, Edge of the Page. It is sure to surprise you with some magnificent fantasy pieces. 

Wonderful Writing Wednesday #1: The Photographer

So I've decided that I'm going to be posting one poem a week on Wednesdays. I'm calling this project Wonderful Writing Wednesday. It should allow me to share my poetic insights with all my fellow bloggers, readers, and poetic justice friends. As I said before, a daily poetry blog is too hard on my membrane and I can't handle the stress of the lave flowing through my ears like vents. So, here it is everyone! My first post to the Wonderful Writing Wednesday Project. 

"Child's Eyes" / Image found at Expect Adventure (Wordpress)

Collecting the thoughts like photos in a shoe box

I create a collage from their scenes like a cinematographer

Counting the flashes of the lens with each click

Black and white or antique sepia swirls coalesced

Into one image whose pixels create an imaginary dream.

I dream of living upon the cloud beds like a child

Whose eyes gleam with adventure and mystique.

I dream of seeing through another's eyes for one moment

Just to better understand how a human mind works.

I dream to dream the impossible and improbable.

My camera is a Polaroid pipe dream ready to snap

Hundreds of sights all into one collective shoe box

Covered in hairballs upon a dusty shelf, hard to reach.

The mind's eye sees more light than a camera flare

And that is something to be proud of as a child.  

Sorry to inform all of you...

Sorry to inform my fellow poet enthusiasts of this, but KmercPoetry is going to be in hiatus for a while. I'm starting to find it really difficult to keep up with everyone, and doing this every day has become a burden more than a fun appetite for creativity. I feel that I need some time to breathe and relax from posting poetry ever day. I'm also not going to be writing poetry for a while because I'm currently working on another project. Haven't come up with a name for it yet, but it has to do with flash fiction.

The project, as far as I see it right now, has become my top priority as a writer. I will be making a website dedicated to a series of flash fiction pieces, and I'm hoping that once I have it up in running that I will see some familiar faces. For now it isn't up and running, and I have a lot of work ahead of me till it is, but I'm really excited to get started. Poetry has always been a passion of mine, but I enjoy writing flash fiction and short stories a bit more.

I appreciate all of my fellow readers for making this a wonderful experience. I will stop by here once in a while and post a poem perhaps, but it won't be very frequent. You also might see me pop up commenting on you blogs once in a while. Just because I'm not going to be writing on here as much anymore doesn't mean I'm done commenting on everyone's poems. That wouldn't be right of me to just leave all of you hanging like that.

Anyways, cheers to all of you! :)

-- Kenn Merchant

Among The Wilds of Glee

"Beautiful Forest Elf" by Jeans Design (Photobucket)

Ayalla smelled the hubris of a yellow and white flower

It is a daisy among the golden meadow in which she laid.

Aya often mingled with the forest and smiled like the sun.

She would frolick among the chipmunks and conifers,

Go eloping with the red fern deer and strawberry fields.

Her elven ears perked up at the silence

She heard the river's soothing song

She heard the birds of paradise sing

She heard the echoes of the living trees.

Tweet tweet, tweet tweet

Ayalla hummed to herself an elegant little tune:

Hmm hm Hmmm Hmm Hm

She could lay here in the wilds for all eternity

And make her home among the stars at night.

Dancing around a pyre of azure and emerald flames,

Magically lit as to not burn her forest to cinders.

Aya loved the forest with all her heart,

And one day she became that forest she loved dearly.

She became known as Gaia, or Mother Earth

And she still hums her beautiful tune

If one would stop a minute in silence

Just to delve into the feywilds' splendor.  

Astrological Crabs

It grows rapidly within me.

Each day passing is a struggle.

In between the spaces of my voice

Lies a sore soul willing to speak

Not of sorrows and hard times

But of enlightenment and truth.

Eye Wonder

"Hand Eye Coordination" by Liam York (Wikimedia)

Eye wonder where all the colors go

when the iris turns shades of gray

into the pupils solid black circle.

Eye wonder where dogs see images

in x-rays or in blots and spots,

or a canine peering through the layers.

Eye wonder if the walls are empty

where the cornea meets the veins

stimulating the nerves of I.

Eye wonder about a lot of things,

and sometimes there are few in between,

but I can see a lot though I'm blind.  

Post script: I was playing around with repetition for effect, and fused it together with a little play on words theme. "Eye" wonder if my fellow readers would like to try out this style. It is a nice little challenge, and I know a few of you would enjoy it. If you do try it out could you please link your version of this poetic style back to me so that I may read it. I'd love to see what you guys and gals come up with. 

Through The River of Time

"Flowing River" by Sigmar32 (Deviant Art)

Time spins around this world rapidly and slow;

A perfect mixture in the bowl,

That creates realities and memories, good or bad.

It is the ebb of the soul:

Dark light;

That shines our destined path bright.

Nothing sad,

Can eat our time away.

Not when time spins with even flow,

Like a river in May.

This poem was written in response to Kerry's Flash 55 PLUS challenge over at Imaginary Garden With Real Toads.

Broken Chair

"Broken Chair" Image from SnipView

Emblazoned with a neutral coloration,

Brown as a baby grizzly bear;

Covered in dust and broken bones.

It once sat upon the greatest floor

Proud as a king's golden throne,

But alas it collapsed with time;

Beatle bugs eating it's laquer alive.

Termites embedding into their hive

Looking for sustenance and a home.

Taking Down The Giant

Against all odds the Patriots fought hard against their competitor the Seahawks. Just when all hope was lost, one player stood out from the crowd, and made an interception at the goal line stand that surely would have sealed the game if he hadn't. Butler is the MVP for this Super Bowl XLIX in my opinion because without that interception the Patriots wouldn't have won this game. All the players worked hard for this glory, but this just shows that it was a fight till the bitter end. 

"Super Bowl XLIX" Image from Forbes

Determination is the key to the kingdom

For when one man falls so does the other

Like dominoes they will tumble to the grave

And there is no angel who can save them

Except for those men next to them called brother

Because in the heat of battle there is a knave

Who will stand out among the shouting crowd

Standing taller than a giant, fearsome and proud.

Bravery withstands even the greatest fathom

For this is a game of wits and toughened ardor

A game men play upon that coliseum and stave

Off against the titans of Olympus for freedom

Yelling and charging, clashing of steely grandeur

Against all odds they fought upon that border

Sweat and blood all over their faces and shroud

For this is the day their victory shined out loud.

Author Note: A tribute to the Patriots for winning their fourth Superbowl in 14 seasons. 

Storm Dancer

"Dancing in the Rain" by helloXD123

The maple boardwalk brazened below my feet

It's surface slippery when wet, sliding

Through the little spaces and cracks

Dancing in the sun and cloudy sky

As lightning drizzles its static upon me

Frizzy hair and dry whispers in the wind:

“Little dancer of the woods doth sing.”

Every day is an adventure full of excitement.

What adventures will you take in the rains of February's calling to spring?