The opera house is full — judging eyes gleam like pearls beneath assembled waves — the hall is silent. A velvet curtain peals — hushed whispers escape, “Break a leg!”

The masquerade begins — burlesque tragic and metaphysical magic — the intermission evades pause — stained-glass tears run free; hold the applause till the end of act three.

The reticent prima donna takes the stage — pursed lips predict melodic release — phantom promises permeate across the baronial hall — powerful inhalation preempts a preeminent display of harmonious rapture — the dance of dulcet tones cascade upon enchanted drones.

The celestial serenade dies as it began, upon the diminuendo of time — stillness evokes emotion, emotion evokes tears — glitter paints the gleaming pearls beneath assembled waves — the hall is silent.

The songbird breaks the silence — mellifluous transcendence evokes existential awareness. The curtain falls — and all is as it was.

©️2021, Jac Harmony All rights reserved

Thank you J.D. Harms and Melissa Coffey for encouraging me to write outside of my comfort zone. And thank you Scrittura for being a forum that inspires its writers to keep growing as authors and poets.

If you enjoyed this prose poem, take a look at this Catena Rondo Poem:

Secret Garden

The Opera House was originally published in Scrittura on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

I never learned to write between the lines — I guess I never felt confined by rules; you should have seen me color.

Sometimes, my life is filled with rhymes — The kind that wrap inside my mind, they twist and turn until I find a place where I can feel less blind. Flickers of light in my dark — Sometimes, my life is filled with rhymes.

I was told to plant my feet, but I prefer to grow and climb — I’m not afraid to be a vine; where I can twist between each line and reach for height’s beyond design — I guess I never felt confined by rules.

©️2021, Jac Harmony All rights reserved

If you like this Poetic Prose, you may also like this Palindrome Poem:

Remember

Be a Vine was originally published in Scrittura on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Oh, what vexing torment troubles me, upon which Eros has imbued with arrows planted; golden hued — May he stumble for his latest ruse.

My love, my heart it swoons at your behest, as rainbows bow upon your breasts, and angels sing at your request — What causes this ache that strangles me so?

The heavens shine before your eyes and here I stand quite hypnotized — Unable to speak, unable to utter a word; for fear that my heart may jump out of my chest — No, for fear that you might turn away — Has Hypnos played a trick on me, to fall, to fail, to misery?

My love, the Sky Lark sings aloud your name, and every sunrise strikes a flame — With vibrant hues I can’t explain, and every sunset does the same. Just bring the rain — Still, even raindrops cannot contain the way your touch can make me feel.

Aphrodite, hast thou placed a curse on me, to love with fervent cause? Eros, does thou play upon my soul, to start a love that never was? Or is it Chaos that behests this lover’s game?

Please, set us free and let us be — This budding ardor need not flee — Oh fatal love, our bodies pine in ways we cannot see.

The verdant field cannot conceal the way our music is revealed — Nor the echoes that we yield, upon the verdant field. To fall upon such sudden bliss that lingers through our fervent kiss, such pleasure I don’t want to miss — The sweetest honey I will cherish beyond the river Styx.

Oh, what lovely torment livens me, upon which Eros has imbued with arrows planted; golden hued — May we love just like his greatest muse, Psyche.

©️2021, Jac Harmony All rights reserved

Thank you J.D. Harms for the awesome Wednesday prompt: speaking with Eros. I don’t fancy myself as being any good at writing prose poetry, but I did enjoy writing this very much. For that I am grateful for the opportunity to try something new.

If you liked this prose poem, please take a look at this Ballad:

Letter to Persephone

Eros’s Arrows was originally published in Scrittura on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

“Commit to We and Us to thee,”
the Ghosts of Polar Pass did say.
“A brighter day will set you free
for helping Us get on our way.”

The Ghosts of Polar Pass did say,
“Please give Us passage on the road;
for helping Us get on our way,
we’ll impart penance that is owed.”

“Please give Us passage on the road,”
my mind began to say so clearly,
“We’ll impart penance that is owed.”
The words that I began to fear.

My mind began to say so clearly,
“A brighter day will set you free.”
The words that I began to fear — 
“Commit to We and Us to thee.”

©️2021, Jac Harmony All rights reserved

A Pantoum is a French poetry form consisting of any number of rhyming quatrains containing between eight to twelve syllables in each line. The Pantoum uses line repetition as a way to add additional power to the poet's message. The rhyme scheme is as follows: A1B1A2B2, B1C1B2C2, C1D1C2D2, D1A2D2A1; where the second and fourth line of each stanza becomes the first and third line of the next stanza. The last stanza adds the third and first line of the first stanza, as the second and fourth lines of the last stanza.

Write for The Lark

Ghosts of Polar Pass was originally published in The Lark on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Undress me slow.
So I may taunt you with my eyes
illuminating with a glow;
undress me slow.
Then slide your tongue between my thighs
and linger till you are baptized;
undress me slow.

Undress me slow.
But not too long, I must advise
or lose the luster of this prize;
undress me slow.
And when our thirst has reached its rise
come back to me, for a reprise.
Undress me slow.

©️2021, Jac Harmony All rights reserved

A Rondelet is a typical French poetry form with rhymes and refrains. The rhyme scheme is as follows: AbAabbA where the capital A represents a four syllable refrain. The lowercase letters are eight syllables in length. Note, I modified my poem to have the following rhyme scheme: AbaAbbA. I did this for a more fluid effect in my poem.

If you like this Rondelet, take a look at this Flamenca Poem:

Foreplay

Slow was originally published in Sensual: An Erotic Life on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Pitter-patter,
Pitter-patter — 
Rain rolls down the windowpane.
Splish n’ splash,
Splish n’ splash — 
Slipping through a broken frame.

Dribble-drip,
Dribble-drip — 
Rolls upon the open floor.
Splatter-splosh,
Splatter-splosh — 
Held back tears begin to pour.

Sniffle-sob,
Sniffle-sob — 
All alone, a desperate cry.
Howling weep,
Howling weep — 
Inner pain just wants to die.

Ring a’ ding,
Ring a’ ding — 
Phone repeats a silly song.
Ring n’ shhh,
Ring n’ shhh — 
It’s too late, my friend is gone.

©️2021, Jac Harmony All rights reserved

September is suicide prevention awareness month. As I sit here weeping, thinking about what to say, someone is saying their last goodbye, someone is giving their final hug, someone is writing their last farewell, someone is pulling the trigger.

In my life, I have both tasted the pain of loss and I have been at that place; that place where it feels like death is the only option. This is a subject that, for me, is both painful to speak about and equally important to do so. Many people suffer from various illnesses and mental health disorders, such as, depression and anxiety… Hell, some people just suffer from moments of doubt and helplessness that have nothing to do with any illness or disorder. Many times there is no warning, no rhyme or reason, just that feeling, that call to be free of pain, that whisper creeping in the mind that says, “It’s time to sleep, to not worry anymore, to not wake up to the sound of suffering and regret.” Because that call is such a silent killer, it is important to know the signs, to hear the voiceless cries for help, to ask the hard question, “Are you thinking about killing yourself?”

This question seems too simple, yet so difficult at the same time. Even saying it out loud sounds… unnatural. However, having asked that question at a crucial moment in someone's life, I have found it can be the difference between life and death. Sometimes, the most simple question is all it takes to bridge the gap of silence.

I just ask, that you take this time to look to your left and to your right; check on your friends, check on your family, check on your coworkers, peers, Soldiers, civilians, mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, and children. It has been a tough couple of years for everyone, for some, it has been an eternity. Ask if they are ok, be that person who is willing to listen, and if necessary, ask the hard question.

Home

An Echo poem is a poetry form of my creation. It uses onomatopoeia within each stanza to provide an echo sounding effect. There are four stanzas, each stanza consisting of two different onomatopoeic sounds repeated twice before each heptasyllabic line. There are two heptasyllabic lines in each stanza. The rhyme scheme is as follows: O1O1aO2O2a, O3O3bO4O4b, O5O5cO6O6c, O7O7dO8O8d. Feel free to ask me if you have any questions about this poetry form.

M inutes before I
Y elled, screaming for the door of my mind to be shut;

W hispers started creeping through my
A ggravated thoughts. My eyes,
R esembled that of a thousand-yard stare,* and

S ilence consumed me. All
T emptations beguiled me at The
A wakening of my mind. The world,
R egistered my emotions into rain drops;
T ears, began pouring from my eyes, falling as the dead…
S ilence, again consumed my Identity. I

I ntended on giving myself time to think,
N ot truly aware of the consequence. I,

M ay have spoken to myself; or, I may have made
Y ou up inside my head. You,

H oping to infect my thoughts with toxic love; you, who liked to fuck me up.
E ventually, I learned to look inside;
A bandoning you, hoping that my
D ecisions weren’t just figments of my imagination — Still lurking inside my head.

©️2021, Jac Harmony All rights reserved

*Thousand-yard stare - a vacant or unfocused gaze into the distance, seen as characteristic of a war-weary or traumatized Soldier.

Inspiration for this Golden Shovel is, Mad Girl’s Love Song, written by Sylvia Plath. Read her poem here:

Neurotic Poets

A Golden Shovel Acrostic is a poetry form in which the last word of each line replays all or part of another, more recognizable poem. The acrostic just gives it an extra challenge and structural twist.

Thank you Joe Váradi, for challenging me to attempt an Acrostic ‘Golden Shovel’ poem. I enjoyed testing myself with this form and I look forward to trying my hand at it again in the future.

Inside was originally published in Scrittura on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Love
Leaves everlasting scars,
Largely self-inflicted;
Less painful with time, but
Lamentations still thrive;
Languishing in a haze.
Lost, until a brighter
Light, mends ones’ broken heart.

©️2021, Jac Harmony All rights reserved

Thank you for the inspiration of a new poetry form Krystal Mossbarger.

A Pleiades Poem is a form that has a single word for the title, followed by seven, six-syllable lines; representing the star cluster in the constellation Taurus. The first word of each line must begin with the same starting letter as that of the title.

If you like this Pleiades Poem, you may also like this Palindrome Poem:

Remember

Why does the darkness call my name?
Once, hypnotized I looked at stars
pretending that I had no scars.

What reckless venture should I blame?
The time that spirits played with me
then locked me up and hid the key?

My mind’s berated, full of shame;
creating nightmares stained in blood,
these painful thoughts — a crimson flood.

Why do the day’s all feel the same?
An echo screaming, “Deja vu,”
replaying my sins — an endless queue.

My memories I can’t contain;
but, do I want to hold them in
to creep along beneath my skin?

I think it’s time that I reclaim
this life of mine and turn the page — 
or be locked in this mental cage.

©️2021, Jac Harmony All rights reserved

A Constanza is a poetry form consisting of five or more stanzas that are three lines each. Each line contains 8 syllables and can be read as individual thoughts or poems, but when placed together, they express a deeper meaning. The rhyme scheme is as follows: abb, acc, add, aee, aff, etc.

Mental Cage was originally published in Scrittura on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Summer nights are ending soon.
Soon to Fall with Winter cold;
cold that paints the autumn leaves,
leaves with colors red and gold.

Autumn has a calming breeze,
breeze that sings a soulful tune;
tune enchanting all who hear.
Hear her voice… the Harvest Moon.

Winter magic will appear,
appear to mystify the sky;
sky, with iridescent hues.
Hues that make the landscape sigh.

Spring will bring hypnotic cues.
Cues to wake the land from sleep;
sleep concealed by Winter snow,
snow that only Spring can reap.

©️2021, Jac Harmony All rights reserved

The following is a poetry form called a Loop Poem. There are no meter requirements or limit to the number of stanzas you can have in your poem. The main effect of the loop poem is caused by repeating the last word of each line as the first word of the next line. The rhyme scheme is as follows: abcb, defe, ghih…etc. Note, I modified my rhyme scheme to display the following format: abcb, cded, efgf…

If you like this Loop Poem, you may also like this Palindrome Poem:

Remember

Seasonal Loop was originally published in Scrittura on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.