MadPrinceFeanor

I am here.  Again.

I make this trip annually, though often I wonder why I even bother.  I should be working harder, I have a dime and three pennies to my name, and making this walk of shame is only slightly less humiliating than living off of charity.  I should be working harder at my three jobs and less sadness.  Nobody likes a sad girl once she's outlived the novelty of her melancholy.  

But I am here, because something in me persists.  Motivation or stupidity, or equal measure of both, perhaps.

I am here.

So...this year has been really shit.  Between death and insanity, I'm ready to tell 2016 to not let the door hit it on the ass on its way out.  But...let's end on a high note.

kiwi-damnation has yet again done an amazing job of creating the December Form Challenge chart and (as always) it looks amazing.

So friends, poets, artists, I encourage anyone and everyone to give this thing a shot!  Every year has turned out some really incredible poetry from all participants, and I'm really looking forward to reading what poetic contributions turn up this year.

is a go-go, baby!

"Aelinos", my first book of poetry and short stories, is now live on Amazon, iBooks, Google Play, and Kobo!

www.amazon.com/Aelinos-Jai-M-M…
itunes.apple.com/us/book/aelin…
play.google.com/store/books/de…
store.kobobooks.com/ebook/aeli…

I am so excited I could faint!

A collection of my haiku poetry from April 2015, for the-haiku-club's HaikuWriMo.

I.
When I am wiser
I will be able to see
that I am a fool.

II.
Under bluer skies
let us exchange daffodils
and entwine our hands
that all might know our friendship
and at last we might know peace.

III.
the willow stills as
hushed calm falls over a world
preparing for storms

IV.
four ducks take shelter
from the approaching thunder
beneath a park bench

V.
the moon gives no light
to a silent inkblot world
in apprehension

VI.
There are no red birds.
Crimson feather in the grass,
where do you come from?

    The blood of your eye,
    Mother, as you weep for things
    you will never see.

VII.
a shoreline of rocks
cannot match tenacity
with dandelions

VIII.
the poison ivy
will not relinquish its hold
upon the oak tree

IX.
the grass doesn't strive
to understand happiness
just to reach the sun

X.
the lake surface breaks
as her head slips underneath
and silence follows

XI.
the rain falls straight down
as it perfumes my home with
the scent of damp earth

XII.
a little bird tries
to swallow a rough pebble
thinking it is bread

XIII.
small yellow flowers
polka-dot where yesterday
was nothing but green

XIV.
the earnest robin
has no thoughts of tomorrow
as he digs for worms

XV.
Dreaming underneath
the tallest redwood, I asked,
how old are you, tree?

     He said, a secret
     that will only come to light
     if you murder me.

XVI.
as I slept last night
I dreamed of little rivers
and woke up thirsty

XVII.
Is it our nature
to always disrupt the peace
that comes from nature?

XVIII.
the chill of April
comes on the wind that has yet
to bring summer's warmth

XIX.
late spring evening
lengthens oddly-shaped shadows
in the dim twilight

XX.
deep angry fissures
crack the surface of a world
thirsty for the rain

XXI.
the flooded river
spills over onto the land
making tiny streams

XXII.
at long last the rain
comes to a world that too long
has thirsted for it

XXIII.
small new saplings grow
out of the rocks surrounding
the old sycamore

XXIV.
tea in the morning
leaves and dew warmed by the sun
refreshes the soul

XXV.
the world is flooded
all succumbs to the water
as we are drowning

XXVI.
a sparrow alights
close enough to be friendly
yet remain cautious

XXVII.
the sudden prick of
a mosquito on my breast
leaves a welt behind

XXVIII.
the sparrow returns
to admonish me daily
as I sip my tea

XXIX.
the sycamore spreads
to a wider berth of shade
hinting at summer

XXX.
A desert borough
where all is not as it seems.
Welcome to Night Vale.

Yay.