pour the waves (by Rebecca Chasteen) Monday, Oct 12 2009 

Non rhyming and Rhyming , , , , , , , , , , , , Becca 10:41 am

Some days,
the music just has to be loud
loud enough
to drive out all temptation to believe in lies
to drive out the numb that doesn’t try

The music just has to be moving enough
to keep me moving
has to remind me of
everything that matters
everything that moves
there is never
nothing
I can do

I can do
something with this
even if it’s
just feel it
even if it’s
just be here

be here
and don’t leave
don’t obliterate myself
on rocky shores
don’t release my grasp
don’t follow their lead
this is what there is to believe-
this is all there is
and this is all that matters

some days
the music just has to be loud
loud enough
to remind me

I just have to be needy enough
to pull it in
anxious
angry
enough
to demand more

pour the waves
pour the waves
pour the waves

my skin is bare
my throat is dry
my stomach waits
my heart aches

pour the waves
pour the waves
pour the waves

 

bury (by Rebecca Chasteen) Tuesday, Oct 6 2009 

Non rhyming , , , , , , , , , , , , Becca 3:49 pm

if i could bury myself in this, i would. i would suffocate myself with this. i would place it over my mouth, my nose, my eyes. i
would just let it be the last thing i breathe, the last thing i see, the last thing i think. i
would leave it
just like that. so i would never have to wake up without it one more day. so i
would never
have to look at it from a distance, from an unimaginable distance. i
wouldn’t have to
yell into the void between, the place where my voice never reaches, my words
never matter enough.
i wouldn’t question again why i stand on the fringe of it all, why i
assume
my bridges are too shaky, or my roots too heavy, my intensity too much or
of course, not enough, whatever the argument may be. or that i
am too much or
too little
never again a concern because,entombed in this, i couldn’t be
anything else
but the one who carried this so close it took over and
took my place, couraged me enough to
let go and just
be this
and nothing else, since
i
never really was the rest. i never really was anything else anyway.

 

Tamper proof (by Rebecca Chasteen) Thursday, Sep 24 2009 

Rhyming , , , , , Becca 12:29 pm

This is
keeping my head above water
keeping my hands off those bottles,
most of the time

this may be a lie
but this is mine

I
do more than survive
with this inside

I own everything-
everything is within my range

as long as there’s room for movement
within this

I wrap myself in it,
it cushions every fall,
it walks with me through every wall…

this
may be a lie,
but this is mine

and this is
keeping my head above water
keeping my hands off those bottles

most of the time

 

Nothing Lost (by Rebecca Chasteen) Tuesday, Jul 28 2009 

Rhyming , , , , , , , , , , , , Becca 11:35 pm

Everything always rests in the air.
I fall apart,
and it ends up right there;

tension and aching
everything breaking-
pouring
sex
and
anger,
love
and
disgust,
fear and longing,
elation and crushed…

dreams and
disappointment
sincerity,
lust

I don’t trust
any one
enough
to hand them my heart
well, I have-
but that
fell apart
that,
was pretend

I believe in second chances
but some things
don’t mend,
some things
don’t settle
some things,
ride gusts of wind
hang on clouds
fog up windshields,
thicken-
hang around…

some things dissipate,
float away
only to
reassemble and return another day
find another way
to circle me
like a vulture,
like a hawk,
like the most insistent
stalk
the things they know are theirs…

I stand in smog,
in cool breezes
heavy air,
easy breathing
and still
all the honesty won’t leave
can’t be blown or brushed-
disguised at times, but never hushed
can’t be driven beyond the clouds
or to the ground

can’t be found and held captive in a distant cell
it knows me well
and clings instead
right around my chest,
just beside my head
asks me to inhale
teases me to breathe deep
and take it all back in
it waits
by my skin
insisting again
to mix, to intoxicate my strength
with courage

every exhale
requires a breath
that begs for compensation
all I’ve ever let go
is waiting…
condensation
evaporation
relocation

I’ll never be allowed to breathe
completely free
until I find a place for the words I let go
but won’t let go of me

 

Poems of Notebooks past, poem 6 (by Rebecca Chasteen) Sunday, Jul 12 2009 

Rhyming and Vintage , , , , , Becca 9:12 am

I wrote this when I was 14, in 8th grade. The title is Messages from Heaven.


You send me hope in bars and notes, and make me understand

this too shall pass.

You send me inspiration in words of black and white.

You send wisdom in the sunshine, and comfort down at night

along with angels.

You let me know you love me in every day I live,

You help me spread this love with every smile I give.

I don’t know what tomorrow brings,

but whatever I must do, I can.

Dear Father don’t let me forget,

my life is in your hands.

This poem makes me cry because it seems like more than 10 years ago, I wrote myself the words I would need right now. I acknowledge in a lot of things I write, I just write, as a literal vessel for the words that come from places I don’t know, in ways I didn’t plan. I acknowledge the supernatural, the divine in this. I acknowledge the subconcious, I acknowledge everything around me, before me, even in front of me as part of the words, part of the inspiration. No one is ever alone. And like land, no one really owns words, we just claim them and live with them. In doing so we may change them, and they us, but they belong to something bigger. And I’m thankful they do.

 

Never Trust Poetry (by Rebecca Chasteen) Friday, May 29 2009 

Non rhyming and Prompted , , , , , , Becca 6:53 am

For today’s prompt, I want you to title your poems “Never (blank)” with you filling in the blank with a word or phrase. Then, write a poem based off your title

Never Trust Poetry

Never trust poetry
to say the things you need to say
to the ears you need
to hear them most.

Never trust poetry
to tell the truth
without it’s own twist,
making pretty to the ears
even the sad and ugly.

Never trust poetry
to navigate for you,
to do your dirty work,
to make your mark.

Never trust poetry
to settle it all.

Poetry is options,
variety of choice.
Poetry’s the vessel,
the Poet, at the helm,
must bear the rain,
take the salt in the wounds,
the wind, the sun…

elements can’t be written off,
but are written out
until they’re
something else.

Never trust poetry.
It’s
barely anything
but imagination.

http://blog.writersdigest.com/poeticasides/2009/04/29/AprilPADChallengeDay29.aspx

 

Semantics (by Rebecca Chasteen) Monday, Feb 9 2009 

Non rhyming , , , Becca 12:03 am

Honesty must be tempered,
cautious,
timely,
diplomatic,
and capable of adapting to the most appeasing shape,
the most consumable form.

 

Here (by Rebecca Chasteen) Saturday, Jan 3 2009 

Non rhyming , , Becca 10:12 pm

I was just so sure you were here. I was just so sure you could hear me
here
when I was telling you over and over…
I was just so sure that if you did, if you were, it would matter more than it did before
when I was the only one hearing this
here
and I can look myself in the mirror, in the heart, and say- I let you know
and know if it turns out you did go; you’re gone
then you weren’t really here all along

and it’s nothing less than what it’s always been
my voice, black and white, falling on my heart time and again
it’s this pervasive loneliness that keeps me
throwing words to ears, to eyes, that just aren’t there
that has me designing places this would fit,
places I would serve this to the hungry and it would give them exactly what they need and I would return and they would feed me
maybe I have been here and missed it, too ravenous to think straight, to appreciate…

and I just keep thinking that I can’t do this anymore
and I just keep thinking that I can’t stop
and I just kept thinking you were
here