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Montana Sep 2012
I can't seem to write
anything these days.
There's just no poetry
in my misery.

I can't seem to right
anything these days.
There's just no cogency
in my apologies.
elle Apr 2016
She desires excellence – pristine, pure, perfection.
She desires excellence – clarity, cogency, coherence.
She desires excellence – sharp, sensual, stressful.
She desires excellence – alluring, artful, alone.
She desires excellence – too much, too much, too much.
"Some people grumble that roses have thorns; I am grateful that thorns have roses."
~
January 2024
HP Poet: Melanii
Age: 27
Country: USA


Question 1: We welcome you to the HP Spotlight, Melanii. Please tell us about your background?

Melanii: "My real name is Arianna. I was born and raised around Dallas, TX and am currently still living here. As it relates to writing, my background draws heavily from exposure to the arts as a child and the fascination, I guess, for beauty that this instilled. My parents (but especially my dad) were enthusiastic about music, art, history, literature, and the sciences, and my interest in all of these topics was piqued by association. Growing up I can recall countless visits to the local art museum, watching documentaries in the evenings after school, attending operas with my parents, and running home after school in the early days of each month to see if the latest issue of National Geographic had arrived so I could soak up the pictures and get lost daydreaming of faraway lands and peoples.

With time these influences grew into a general interest in the humanities. I attended the University of North Texas in Denton from 2014-2017 and studied anthropology, French, and Russian after doing a 180 on my initial intention of studying and pursuing psychology as a career path at a different school. At the time it felt kind of reckless, but in hindsight it was definitely the right decision.

After graduating, I was working as a barista and somewhere along the way ended up going to Prague for a month in the summer of 2018 to do a TEFL certification, fell into poetry that fall, and then returned to Prague for 11 months in 2019 to teach English. It was very much the best and the worst of times: I met some amazing people while there, took the opportunity to travel around a bit, and lived and learned from a horrendous relationship that also transpired during that year. I definitely went into that experience without any clear objectives or expectations; looking back, life definitely took that complacency and turned the tables with it, and while it took several years afterwards for the dust to fully settle, I've made it out the other side stronger, more intentional, and more assertive than before.

Since then, life has really just been what it's been. There have been ups and downs, of course, but the lows don't hit as hard anymore. Right now, there's not much to report and I plan to keep it that way. It's nice. Peaceful. It's a new year, and with it I will continue to focus on working, saving money, making a dent in the hydra that my reading list has become, and overall just living well and building towards the future."



Question 2: How long have you been writing poetry, and for how long have you been a member of Hello Poetry?

Melanii: "As a teenager I’d scribble fragments of poems here and there, but never considered writing to be a hobby. That all changed around September 2018 when, for whatever reason, I decided that I enjoyed writing and wanted to dedicate more time to it. As mentioned in Question #2, this was right around the time I was preparing to relocate to Prague. It's kind of hard to describe; maybe it was just the excitement of the unknown, but that whole period of time had a sense of magic and beauty about the way it was unfolding which the “discovery” of poetry as a creative outlet only elevated."


Question 3: What inspires you? (In other words, how does poetry happen for you).

Melanii:  "At first, it seemed like “there was inspiration around every corner”, to quote another poet I read here on HP one time (can't remember who it was or the title of the piece, but they were describing how great poets like Bukowski seemed to find inspiration so effortlessly, and the way they phrased it has stuck with me). Fast forward five years to today, and while I don't write as prolifically anymore the words come when I have something to say.

Inspiration comes from many sources for me: music, art, and nature; random thoughts, feelings, ideas, and observations; the works of other poets; travel when it happens; disappointments in family and other relationships; loneliness…

As far as the actual writing process goes, it's pretty random. More often than not, I'd say the poems write themselves and I just jot them down once they're ready, or as they evolve and refine themselves to fruition. Not the most thoughtful approach, but it comes from the heart."



Question 4: What does poetry mean to you?

Melanii: "To me, poetry is a language — specifically a language of consciousness in its purest, most elemental form. Poetry has the ability of transcending and even defying the typical rules of language without losing cogency, and for me it's this inherent flexibility that makes it at once so unique and so impactful as an art form."


Question 5: Who are your favorite poets?

Melanii: "Federico García Lorca, Li Qingzhao, and Pablo Neruda are the top 3 names that come to mind. I enjoy the unique way that each one of them uses language and imagery to illustrate the pieces of their lives and humanity which they decided to share through their writing. There's an element of surrealism, sensuality, and expansiveness running through each of their writing styles that speaks to me in the way it encompasses the beauty and complexity of life's possibilities across good and bad times alike."


Question 6: What other interests do you have?

Melanii: "I enjoy traveling and would love to be in a place someday where I can do so more often. The urge to explore again has been gnawing at me recently, so after a little bit of research and number crunching, I renewed my passport and booked a flight to Peru for three weeks in March. I had promised myself to visit a new region the next time I traveled, and despite growing up in Texas I have yet to visit Latin America. The plan is to start in Cusco, sightsee there, then head south into Bolivia to tour the Salar de Uyuni, which has been on my bucket list since learning of its existence from National Geographic. I couldn't believe that a place like that was real, and words cannot express how excited I am to finally experience the landscape in person! With March marking the beginning of the end of the rainy season, I'm hoping to still catch some of the “mirror” effect that the salt flats are so famous for. After touring the flats, the plan is to take an overnight bus back to La Paz before heading north again towards Lima with some sightseeing stops along the way and a few days left over in the city before flying back home. So we'll see what happens!

Languages are a long standing interest as well. I studied French for 7 years between high school and college, and Russian for the 3 years I spent at university. Since graduating, I've kept up with both through podcasts, YouTube videos, news articles, and music, and despite being far from fluent in either it's helped a lot with retention and comprehension. Learning ancient Greek has also been an on-and-off endeavor since 2017 after reading Euripides’ plays and deciding that I'd like to read Medea in its original text someday. Time will tell if that ever happens, but I did recently complete an online introductory course to the language which was a nice memory refresher and helped with unpacking some of the grammatical concepts that threw me for a loop back when I first started and which are part of the reason I fell away from Greek in the first place. After Greek, I would like to learn some Coptic, Farsi, and Turkish, and would be satisfied with learning to read at least one sentence in Mandarin in my lifetime.

Outside of travel and languages, I enjoy researching and cooking dishes from various cuisines, reading, taking walks, trying out different exercise classes on days off (recently I've done tai chi, pilates, barre, aerial silks, and kickboxing, but in the past I've tried pole fitness, archery, aerial silks, cycling, and horseback riding), visiting art museums, dropping by the symphony or opera once in a blue moon, and watching videos and documentaries on philosophy, history, theology (not religious, though, just curious), and science."



Carlo C. Gomez: “Thank you so much for giving us an opportunity to get to know the person behind the poet, Melanii! We have loved adding you to this series!”

Melanii: "Thank you so much for having me and for all your efforts conducting this series of interviews! It's truly a pleasure having the opportunity to break the ice and learn more about our fellow poets."



Thank you everyone here at HP for taking the time to read this. We hope you enjoyed getting to know Melanii little bit better. I indeed did. It is our wish that these spotlights are helping everyone to further discover and appreciate their fellow poets. – Carlo C. Gomez

We will post Spotlight #12 in February!

~
they cower in motels
behind brave windows and balconies,
hurling mortal nouns
into private spaces

avatar faces
painted dirt brown
spew hurt and shame
like acid rain
with decadent refrain

and broken blades
seek veins hidden
in sheer fright
from eyes cued to gore,
grime and more

criminal cocktails
circumvent cogency
by a moonshiner's mile

improvised neckwear
leave a mark
as the world goes dark
like forensic files
or the hunt

and another soul
checks out early,
bypassing the lobby
and the regally blind

eyes cued to gore,
grime and more....

~ P
#bedroombullies
(8/3/2015)
Maria Hale Mar 2012
A **** in my brow from side to side,
You split my skin nine stitches wide.
I don’t even have the cogency to cry.

Another ER trip, I swear I’m out.
No matter the showers of love that you spout.
I can’t put up with another shout.
I know one day I can live without…

But I’m clumsy, I’ll tell them I fell.
Even though all of my fallacies smell.
They won’t believe the volume of my yell.
But with gentle arms you re-create my cell.
I’ve been here before, I know this death knell.

I wish I could tell you no.
You know this won’t be the time I go.

Today is just not my day.
Busbar Dancer Feb 2016
This addiction to cogency
is holding me back.
We can snap our fingers, and
tap our toes
in different time but
the results would be the same.
The Pride of Saint Vitus
has a name, but
there are no parades
because, well, can you imagine?
I have little to give but
you are welcomed to it.
Its been said that cynics are disappointed dreamers but
as a disappointed dreamer
I say cynics are *******.
There are judicious uses of time and there are
beautiful wastes.
Its a shame that
I need to lay down in the evenings
when "good" T.V. is on and
the sirens wail a little bit less down on the boulevard but
there are these echoes, see, and
they keep me from reading that book I started in the winter of '77.
Let me rest a minute.
please lemme know and honestly profess
if profusion of words create a lingual Loch Ness
(when hens canst come home to roost
   especially, encountering
   the following conglomeration
   in matthew scott harris patois).

He readily admits writing inventive
   attempts usually ten tubby a literary mess,
thus finding innocent cyber cruisers
   Angle fishing for Saxony fundamental fluidity
   courtesy of Freudian stream of consciousness,
   gabbling gibberish, muck not done on purpose
   and certainly less
to impress.

Gnome hatter intent toward
   cogency, fancy ingenuity,
   levity, the inevitable
   resultant wrought gobbledygook
   fascination for Lingua Franca
   feeble endeavor splutters, splinters,
   and splatters Asia Yukon guess.

Paramour status analogous with twenty six letters,
   sans En gull Lush Mother tongue confluence
   finds me submerged (as an Arctic Monkey)
   swimmingly enervated
   via ****** laced sentiments
   perhaps finds bravely daring soul madly
   hollering, gesticulating floundering,
   (in close proximity to Davey Jones's locker)
   to avoid drowning at sea
   perchance comprehending passionate influence.

   Upon espying a signature poem of mine
   forces one pre ponder ring lurking predilection
   tib hush anonymous re:
   dears (dares) adventuresome mettle
   taking him/her to the brainy
   (briny) deep brink
   Icon fess

this (NON FAKE) pretense, why
   aye metaphorically express
(via medium of ordinary Anglophile
   alphabetic wanton soup,
   or figurative egg drop bub
   bling broth (el) doth brew)

   pronouns Sibyl affectation
   affliction sans plethora,
   where each ladle full adrip with
   richly flavor Verdana Font lee
   and sincerely textured vocabulary.

   Pluperfect mortals beings undoubtedly feel
   (blindsided, how this hunger stricken author
   suffers said sesquipedalian syndrome
   particularly expectorating flashy

   hoping tum bark on successful literary quest)
   hyper aware aspiring paperback writers wannabe
   might stoop to conquer, cheat, cadge
   vis a vis plagiarize plethora
  amidst storied plentiful English droppings.

Rather than succumb pretense feigning paucity
   temptation to bask exultantly,
   professed glorious unrequited love
   announcing required sworn vow,
(el lye ding) avowed consonant covenant.
noah wide dee ya when,
where, why or how then
thine ark of in sight fullness, pen
(viz uber taurus), men
sans quirky physiological ken
focus a ford did afore hen
chosen poetic themed word den.

this tire less un escort head
eureka moment (regarding
figurative crash test
dummy awakening) drove home
this aye opening
****** tin, peculiar, pated preserve.

this contemplative bore
ring emotive, five and fifty four
year old cannot pinpoint bon jour
if thee essential addle brain lesser more

of mine heard from a thread
reputable broadcast, read
an article of con fey head
door ration online or elsewhere bred

such as storied pay
periodical. nor can i lay
vouchsafe these myopic gray
brown eyes bore awareness fey
via watching an expose.

though lack of identifying you
might think bistro, milieu, venue,
et cetera, one comment true
lee can be averred with certainty.

sometime within a small crick
number of years ago, a kick
a** super ***** crowned cow lick
a phenomenal humungous slick
cranium tried to play cheap trick.

subsequently, this beastie boy
experienced a numb skull syndrome.

while linkedin to this zone
seize **** sal lad frosted stone
er flakey state, this acute up pone
hirsute, oblate spheroid hone
betook chrome dome grown.

spongiform territory
noodle could now know
wing lee hone a vaster tract.

Even a poe Pud'n Head Wilson
like myself understand ably
venerated woke full perception!

ma mind took laser like focus,
which brought notice, viz
enlargement of sacred brain power,
and hence spurred the above title.

once me noggin came
to this hyper awareness frame
(some unknown small game
number of years gone by), name
ming deliberate scrutiny cherished tame
intelligent pod wither ya find me vain.

visual cognition alerted - holy cow
my curiosity how
circumference of ancillary now
anatomical accouterment pow
wore lee atop shoulders without doubt tow
er became larger since taking vow
visual stock (of said) most vital wow

constituent body part. aye aint
got any hard data (hmm... maybe
Cambridge Analytica might know
a tidbit or two) pertaining to this
indisputable cognizance, where

expanding cerebral gray matter
iz concerned. only via circumspection
(more so refined since the recent
forced quantum leap into muddled,
molly coddled, middle age),

this distinct heady revelation
vied to be capitalized, gratified,
and limned into some semblance
of cogency.
AmbientThought May 2017
Feeling lost from light,
while some lack sight.
Claim cogency ironically,
then cower from fight.
Is this might,
this fear of strife?
25, handsome, bright,
and still yearning for knife?!
Deserving of life?
Andrew Guzaldo c Aug 2020
“Continuum poetry chicanery doggerel of opulence,
A beguilement dedicated and procured into words,
In all end it may become a reality of beneficence,  
To those that have induced the fine artistry of poetry

But is a poet’s best way to live is in art of interpretation,
In the art of interpretation that fall on the ears of readers,  
A poet is that of a philosopher with continuum of words,
Of life love happiness sadness or a spectrum of obscurity,  

Depending on the bright of day or the glimmer of success,  
A poet writer uses an episteme into metaphysical words,
Metaphysical life is always looking within the poet’s soul,
For the metaphysical of a sustained moment of solitude,

Continuum of poetry is that appropriate or peculiarly meaning,
Reverie or nightmare of pertinent validity an assuage cogency,
This is poetry of continuum arouses for your reading bliss”

“By Andrew Guzaldo © 07/04/2020 Posted HP Poem #194
“By Andrew Guzaldo © 07/04/2020 Posted HP Poem #194
Aye sandman, I surrender to yar supreme governance
surreal spectacular soiree gifts subconscious sphere
soothing (analogous to natural palliative), ah...REM
member nought, asper exquisite entertaining cerebral
kaleidoscope replete with nonpareil visual trappings

aesthetically tantalizing unforgettable..., but lo' eye can't
captcha scenario upon awakened state, tis bothersome
transcendent, resplendent, quiescent,...transient dream
ticking escapement shuttered against recollections...
aye plead mercy to jog, (and gently jimmy - yeah of

course figuratively) shuttered facet slammed tight soon
nee immediately inaccessible dimension brought forth
teasingly, phantasmagorically, numbingly ephemeral,
nevertheless temporarily liberating, enshrouding, and
cocooning against incessant drubbing mine corporeal

wakeful body electric relentlessly fraught with profuse
inexplicable perspiration (principally palms) recurs
like clockwork (despite prescription medications), this
physiological discomfort hazards livingsocial quotidian
joyless agonizing oft times including courtesy, not

"FAKE" panic attack, these anxiety less debilitating,
when emotionally torturous teenage years wracked
every cell (no matter how fast I ran - just Kuwait, the
mailer daemons threatened) to undermine even flickr
of happiness, hence suicidal ideations (eternal slumber)

tantalized (still populate though processes) as surefire
solution to mitigate despite leaving those who love,
and especially hate yours truly, his existence bereft
of quality, though tranquil physical quasi rural setting
(Schwenksville), a naturalistic, fantastic, holistic balm,

here quiet as a cemetary removed, not considerably
distant from Philadelphia (hubbub disagrees with hair
trigger vulnerability), where madding crowd affects my
innate neurological predisposition, these lovely bones

easily rattled, quite aggravating to live verging upon
tremulous agitation assuaged through writing - catharsis
delivers temporary alleviation as doth solitary voluntary
sequestration poor substitute to relish L'Chaim!

Now Holy cow, I modestly bow vine
and dandy attired with New Times Roman font –
showing off me lix - plus iv ridging
despite afflicting unsuspecting reader  
to experience insufferable oh press
sieve corny word play yes
please lemme know and honestly profess
if profusion of words create lingual Loch Ness,
when hens can't come home to roost
especially, encountering
the following conglomeration
in Matthew Scott Harris patois.

He readily admits writing inventive
attempts usually ten tubby a literary mess,
thus finding innocent cyber cruisers
Angle fishing for Saxony fundamental fluidity
courtesy of Freudian stream of consciousness,
gabbling gibberish, muck not done on purpose
and certainly less
modest ambition to impress.

Gnome hatter intent toward
cogency, fancy ingenuity,
levity, the inevitable
resultant wrought gobbledygook
fascination for Lingua Franca
feeble endeavor splutters, splinters,
and splatters Asia Yukon guess.

Paramour status analogous with twenty six letters,
sans En gull Lush Mother tongue confluence
finds me submerged (as an Arctic Monkey)
swimmingly enervated
via ****** laced sentiments
perhaps finds bravely daring soul madly
hollering, gesticulating floundering,
(in close proximity to Davy Jones's locker)
to avoid drowning at sea
perchance comprehending passionate influence.

Upon espying a signature poem of mine
forces one pre ponder ring lurking predilection
tib hush anonymous re:
dears (dares) adventuresome mettle
taking him/her to the brainy
(briny) deep brink Icon fess

this (NON FAKE) pretense, why
aye metaphorically express
(via medium of ordinary Anglophile
alphabetic wonton soup,
or figurative egg drop soup
bubbling broth (el) doth brew)

pronouns Sibyl affectation
affliction sans plethora,
where each ladle full adrip with
richly flavor Verdana Font lee
and sincerely textured vocabulary.

Pluperfect mortals beings undoubtedly feel
(blindsided, how this hunger stricken author
suffers said sesquipedalian syndrome
particularly expectorating flashy

hoping tum bark on successful literary quest)
hyper aware aspiring paperback writers wannabe
might stoop to conquer, cheat, cadge
vis a vis plagiarize plethora
amidst storied plentiful English droppings.

Rather than succumb pretense feigning paucity
temptation to bask exultantly,
professed glorious unrequited love
announcing required sworn vow,
(el lye ding) avowed consonant covenant.
impossible mission to encapsulate notion
flitting hither and yon, to and fro
within cranium attached to mine body,
whereby irrefutable proof prevails
predicated when yours truly
scrutinizes other people visibly aware,
I a modest married male
blessed, gifted, whence  
after Scottish Tartan welcome mat unrolled
allowing, enabling, and providing

yours truly as former Beatle browed
foo fighting afterlife member with
grateful dead Mötley Crüe
subsequently quoted posthumously
far and wide as generic, yet proud mortal
with ability to garner massive
fount of knowledge
accrued throughout mein kampf,
yet wonders how such cumulative learning
jam packed tightly

within sixty plus shades of gray matter)
nonetheless garden variety **** sapien
got genetically cheated,
gypped, stinted, et cetera
concerning diminutive measurement
of his hirsute covered thinker
in other words, a disappointment prevails
regarding smaller than average head size
housing the ways and means
to transport yours truly
upon little feet for a grown man.

mine nippy nap noopy noggin (property
of doodling dandy Yankee) yanked
with unsubstantiated figurative yen
noah wide dee ya - Hawaii or when,
Yukon ask me to Maui,
where, why or how then
thine ark of insight fullness arose,
nevertheless yours truly doth pen
(the above and following words),
regarding... pondering aha moment
linkedin with expanding cranium capacity
reference made to poem title

(observation not applicable;
i.e. denied writer of these words, -
who considers himself clodpoll),
a lyft in main gate
of me consciousness did open
escorting uber snorting
noble... what the f* taurus driving Ford;
aries (actually arise zing)
cheese silly steering toward toreador
eventually ramming esse caped
bull rider capricorn to pisces,
similar to no contest

among mice and men
or torturous quirky physiologically
experimental signature laboratory
rat in a cage
tormented viz black barbed dollops
scientist tapping into her/his scrunched ken
grateful for fee fie foe fum
cussing anti-vivisectionists
which aforestated ruse - stirs analogous
accompaniment with mother clucking hen
chosen poetic themed wordsmith
housed in his mancave den.

this wheely tireless confusion
royally loopy gobbledygook
invisibly emanating gassy gut head
eureka moment (regarding
figurative crash test
dummy awakening) drove home
this aye opening
****** tin, peculiar, pated preserve.

four score minus seventeen years ago bonjour
earthlinked contemplative - bore
ring emotive fella, regarding yours truly
otherwise three score and three
year old mortal cannot pinpoint
if thee essential addle skull
measurement housing fifth, sixth,
seventh... heavenly strung out dimensions
of mine built-in bonafide helmet lesser more
smaller than average heard from a digital thread,
reputable ted talk, electronic
broadband transmitted podcast, et cetera,

these bland words readable material in store
categorized as reasonable rhyming article
of faith conveyed courtesy no coat hangers
devoid graphic erotica for any
journeying, wayfaring ******
peeking thru virtual keyhole
door ration online or elsewhere bred
such as storied pay
periodical, nor can I lay
vouchsafe these myopic gray
brown eyes bore awareness fey
via watching an exposé.

though lack of identifying you
dear anonymous reader, thee
might think bistro, milieu, venue,
et cetera, one comment true
lee can be averred with certainty.

sometime within a small crick
number of years ago, a kick
a
super ***** crowned cow lick
a phenomenal humongous slick
cranium tried to play cheap trick.

subsequently, this beastie boy
experienced a numb skull syndrome
while linkedin to this zone
seize **** sal lad frosted stone
er flakey state, this acute up pone
hirsute, oblate spheroid hone
betook chrome dome grown.

spongiform territory
noodle could now know
wing lee hone a vaster tract
even a poe Pudd'nhead Wilson
like myself understand ably
venerated woke full perception!

ma mind took laser like focus,
which brought notice, viz
enlargement of sacred brain power,
and hence spurred the above title
once me noggin came
to this hyper awareness frame
(some unknown small game
number of years gone by), name
ming deliberate scrutiny cherished tame
intelligent pod wither ya find me vain.

visual cognition alerted - holy cow
my curiosity how
circumference of ancillary cerebral domain now
impossible mission to scrutinize
anatomical accouterment, which suffered
sucker punch bam plow
wing squarely into twisted
snubbed button nose
(another undersized, albeit
anatomical feature of mine)
wore loosely, wobbly atop shoulders
without doubt mine mean toe
head became larger since taking vow
visual stock (of said) most vital wow
constituent body part. aye aint

got any hard data (hmm... maybe
Cambridge Analytica might know
a tidbit or two) pertaining to this
indisputable cognizance, where
expanding cerebral gray matter
iz concerned. only via circumspection
(more so refined since the recent
forced quantum leap into muddled,
molly coddled, middle age),
this distinct heady revelation
vied to be capitalized, gratified,
and limned into some semblance
of tangential cogency.

— The End —