Idle Thoughts

Looking back on the extent of my evolution as a writer, I'd say I have put down hundreds of pages of poetry and prose in 13 years of writing seriously. Most of those have been lost and I unfortunately can't reproduce them anymore, but I do still remember them. The first real one I remember was called "Flood" and was very raw and dark and emotive. I was into a lot of E.A. Poe, Sylvia Plath and Dylan Thomas at the time. Since then, in 13 years of hit and miss, I went from being a borrower to a kind of writer with his own voice. I admit I still go back to what got me excited to write in the first place, but I have a feeling that as I have changed as a human being, so too has my writing been forced to mature and evolve. Whether it's good or not, I'll let whoever reads it decide. I'm not qualified to make an objective analysis of my work because what I write is so a part of me so I don't feel quite up to the task of judging its poetic or artistic merits. Hopefully people will come away enjoying what I have done, but as long as they look at it honestly and come up with their own opinions of it, whether good or bad, if it is done honestly then that is all I could hope for.

Copyright: 2004, by Raymund Diaz Delizo

(Note: This was originally posted on my old blog on June 3, 2004)

Poem: "Conversation Overheard At A Local Costco"

"Conversation Overheard At A Local Costco"

She eyes the cashier with contempt
Twenty items or less
Been walking for over two hours
The black eyeliner is fading

Amid the countless heads
The woman in blue slaps her husband's face
And spills the milk

A moppy haired green behind the gills
Winks his approval with a flick
Of the wrist
Tragedy is avoided

The clock reads ten minutes
Before bedlam.

Copyright: 2009, by Raymund Diaz Delizo

Poem: "Taking One's Time"

"Taking One's Time"

Chalk it up
To one last drink
The bartender with his lazy
Nonchalant glare

Flirting with the
Fleeting idle jukebox
A tap on the bouncer's shoulder

No set destination tonight
A sultry night
Sweltering anticipation
Leading up the stairs

Leaning in, slowly
Eyes meet
In a smoldering moment
The tension palpable

As it crawls unseen
Underneath skin
Hushed in exposed undertones
And bated breath

Amid the roar, whispers abound
"It's just you and me, honey."
It's only a kiss, she tells herself
Lingering quietly in the shadows.

Copyright: 2009, by Raymund Diaz Delizo

Poem: "Twilight"

"Twilight"

The darkness looms in the distance
Wings envelop the innocent
Face contorts in sublime surprise

A hand goes up
Red lines intertwine
The last fading sirens
Outside, a shadow moves

The lines blur
Eyes close
Amidst the glare
Of silent
Angry, gnashing teeth

In the end, a chalk outline
Defines the contours of
A palpable goodbye.

Copyright: 2009, by Raymund Diaz Delizo

Mental debate

For the past few days, I have been debating whether or not to get back into attempting to write a full fledged novel. The last attempt I made was several years ago and, for whatever reason, it just fell apart.

I've begun to look into the possibility of creative writing software such as Dramatica Pro as an aid, but, at a retail of about $270, I'm a little reluctant at spending that kind of money just for one program.

Announcement

I stumbled upon my old blog that I had here back in 2004. It still has some of my older poetry. I am in the process of going through the material and re-posting it on here just for the sake of posterity.

Poem: "The Familiar Stranger"

"The Familiar Stranger"

The wind calls
lovely and silent
like a child for its mother
alone in a secluded
unspoken hush

Horror is like a kiss
velvet and smooth
the memory of it
never fades

But lingers
in the depths of the beating heart
clinging like a desperate shadow
of dying, radiant glow

Sleep is nevermore
But a necessary evil
men must endure to cover up
their sins

Lest the night in all her majestic glory
thunders from on high
leaving sinners unmasked
temptation unscathed in
perfect embrace

Seeking comfort in the arms
of a familiar stranger.

Copyright: 2008, by Raymund Delizo