Writer Seeker of Words Lifts her pen in anguish At this little thing called writer's block Poet. -b.r.rivera Poem 29 of 30, April 2012 #30in30 A Cinquain.

It begins with a light stab. A constant reminder of who's in control and who isn't.  Let's me be awakened with boss like qualities of urgency with no employment, deadlines but no place to go. Then it begins to sizzle. Sizzle like fire acid rain down the curvatures of what holds me together.  But I'm not together. Here, I am a jumbled mess of confusion, a chaotic place of nerve endings and muscle fibers begging for rest. Do I dare to stop? Do I dare to state that I am not done with this life (nor the next) so I must simply just enjoy what has been given to me. This is my place. Not a resting place. Not a place begging for a wired hangar to be anchored on a glossy doorknob, shining of beautiful welcomes and scents of candles within. No. This is something new, entirely. This is my place. A place where lightning shoots through the neck and electrifies my insides. This is a place where I drag my feet and droop when I wince in subtle positio...

I. Sweet temptation is nothing more than desiring gifts of cake and eating it too. II. Wasted years , Wasted Tears a  constant reminder that  love chooses you stupid Cupid. III. A grave is nothing  but a box filled of bones begging to enter again into history.  IV. A fool twice believes the first tale and secretly hopes for another ending. V. They sure do talk don't they?  when all  is jibber jabber from the same source. VI. God is  simply because He exists, and all others fail in comparison. VII. I always pity the flowery language that Poets use which never bloom on paper. -b.r.rivera #30in30 Poem 26 of 30. (although this is many poems, I'm just counting it as one for the challenge.) A series of 7 Naani.  Each naani is an individual poem. This fixed form of Indian Poetry has 20-25 syllables of 4 lines with no rhyme scheme, and is an "expression" for one...

I like my body when it is with your body. Our voices echo. Magnifying your arrival. It is so quite new a thing. New statue...In a drafty museum. Your nakedness Shadows our safety. Sweet voice. Sweet Lips. Soft Hands, and softer Body remember not only how much you were loved. Hard to imagine getting anywhere near another semi nude encounter down this concrete slab  of interstate, the two of us all thumbs not only the beds where you lay, but also those desires for you. To play without shame. To be a woman, who feels only the pleasure of being used and who reanimates the user's... Best get down on all fours. Ease our noses past rear-end collisions wrapped around embracing minds, and hearts exhang'd for hearts. don't be dull and boring and pretentious, don't be consumed with self love. i like my body when it is with your body. eyes big love-crumbs and possibly i like the thrill of under me you so quite new. -b.r.rivera a Found Poem. ...

arms enclosing me in a circular being  feel quick, a heartbeat -b.r.rivera 14 of 30, April 2012 #30in30 A Senryu. 

Write she says Soy Poet but she's a front all flowery language and tricks of words. she cannot fully understand this art reserved realness phony girl Poet? No. Words she will attempt to disrespect the real artistry of lyrical genius add a sprinkle of cutesy photographs place them in ink pretend words titled fraud. -b.r.rivera 13 of 30 #30in30 A Tetractys ; this fixed form has strict syllable/line count.

I remember he wanted to marry me enclosed spaces shared tiniest of details How I suddenly became the girl of "we." that was years ago. End of a tragic tale. Even a ring was placed on my finger as a reminder for a day to with no pizzaz somewhere absent church bells ring old, turn and chime Something new, now blue. He said he would be mine. -b.r.rivera A   Rispetto . #30in30 Poem 10 of 30, April 2012

I did not choose to love you, I am told Cause you can't help who you love. We're all prisoners here, invisible shackles taking control I did not choose to love you, I am told. I despise fate. Hate to think I'm a conquest, a figurine, extolled Shapeless drones punctured in pain by an arrow fired from distant places I did not choose to love you, I am told. Cause you cant help...who you love. -b.r.rivera #30in30 A Triolet Poem 4 of 30, April 2012.

dew sprinkling on shadowed memories of grass sunshine, anew day. -b.r.rivera #24 of 30 #30in30