Phoenix Rise Remix: Twenty-three

23.
After Beryl watched the new DVD that accompanied the Summers’ five times in a row, and reading the note double that amount, she remembered those words. She evaporated in to joy.

Phoenix Rise Remix: Twenty-two

22.
“To the poet: ya poem lingers like cymbals causin’ tears to sprinkle from a face blessed unwrinkled your water drops drip in perpetual ripples.” She knew the words sounded vaguely familiar.

Phoenix Rise Remix: Twenty-one

21.
The Fed-Ex box arrived with her prize inside. She peeled the paper as if it were an eggshell dream that ripping could raze. Inside the CD cover was a handwritten note.

Phoenix Rise Remix: Twenty

20.
There - in letters bluer than the mineral her grandmother was fond of - was her name. She screamed. Her prize: an advanced deluxe copy of Summers’. The real prize she found later.

Phoenix Rise Remix: Nineteen

19.
Second place winner, still got a treat: front row tickets to the Summers’ Tour and backstage passes. She hoped Darlyn would YouTube her experience. The third place winner stopped her heart.

Phoenix Rise Remix: Eighteen

18.
She didn’t win, but she knew the first place winner would enjoy dinner with Maxwell. Losing to Kim stung less than losing to a stranger, and her remixes were always funny.

Phoenix Rise Remix: Seventeen

17.
The minutes, days, and weeks slowly melted away. She waited, watched the Musze website for an announcement of the winners, but nothing new. Then it appeared on Wednesday during the winter.

Phoenix Rise Remix: Sixteen

16.
She sticks a stamp on the envelope. Strange that the contest only accepts snail mail. Beryl went to the post office to get it certified; she wanted it to be safe.

Phoenix Rise Remix: Fifteen

15.
She couldn’t sink to the sea, so she became satisfied with the song, her song, that had cotton stitched on its edges. She sketched cupcakes in the margin to find serenity.

Phoenix Rise Remix: Fourteen

14.
Beryl tried her best to revise the lyrics, but she struggled to strip the sweetness from the song. She listened to Sade in order to find the right amount of sadness.

Phoenix Rise Remix: Thirteen

13.
The ladies thought Beryl’s lyrics didn’t match the grittiness of Black. The light might be appropriate for the climax of the album, but the last song should be surrounded by shadows.

Phoenix Rise Remix: Twelve

12.
Jay showed up first, and Viz sauntered in shortly after. Smiles, small talk, and hot stuff, then they shifted to workshop mode. Beryl offered suggestions, saving her song sharing for last.

Phoenix Rise Remix: Eleven

11.
Saturday mornings, her sisters in scribe met at Starbucks, sharing poem suites they planned to submit to literary journals. Beryl sat at a table for three and waited for the ladies.

Phoenix Rise Remix: Ten

10.
Showing someone else submitting lyrics for the contest seemed stupid. Showing someone who was not a fan seemed silly. She could show her writer buddies, Beryl thought. Showing them made sense.

Phoneix Rise Remix: Nine

9.
Beryl stumbled through each word choice, writing and striking out words that sounded too heavy on her tongue. Finally sticking to her rough draft, she had to share, but whom with?

Update on #novpad

December is the month set aside, after Novemeber PAD, where you are supposed to revise your poems. During the revision, you are supposed to find a theme or some type of link for 10-20 of the poems.

I got rid of several poems immediately because they weren't any good, and now I have about 16 of them that I'm revising. Out of those 16, I have 9 revised already.

*And here comes the problem.*

The theme that connects the poems is clear, in my opinion. My biggest issue is that the poems aren't able to speak for themselves. The story behind them isn't understood unless I explain it, and to me, the story is what makes the poems interesting. However, I'm not going to be around after I submit them for the chapbook contest, so they need to be able to advocate for themselves.

So that's what I'm trying to work on now, but I wish I could have several different people read it just to see how they interpret the meaning. Maybe the story in my mind isn't necessary to enjoy the poems...

Phoenix Rise Remix: Eight

8.
Four weeks until the deadline to enter. Beryl didn’t have time to dally with Doubt. She shrugged him off and continued to listen to “Phoenix Rise” and researched lyrics from Blacksummers’night.

Phoenix Rise Remix: Seven

7.
Buzz about the contest was at beehive status, maybe two. Maxwell has so many fans, how would Beryl shine in daylight? Doubt began to rest his arm across her slumped shoulders.

Phoenix Rise Remix: Six

6.
Writing a few lines, Beryl decided she had the refrain. She rewrote it several times, tweaking and revising, wondering would it sound better sung in staccato, slowing the tempo to adagio.

Phoenix Rise Remix: Five

5.
Searching for the starting point where his voice would enter, Beryl decided to begin behind the snare’s call, twenty seconds in. “He likes to whisper”, she said, scribbling down suitable words.

* * * * *

Click here for part four.

Phoenix Rise Remix: Four

4.
Realizing her happiness at winning the contest was a bit premature, she scavenged through her handbag for her composition book, pencil, and iPhone, putting "Phoenix Rise" on repeat, reveling in sweet.

* * * * *

Click here for part three.

Phoenix Rise Remix: Three

3.
Dancing around out of sheer happiness would have been appropriate, but Beryl didn't want to incur weird stares from the other patrons at the bookstore. She settled for an inward smile.

* * * * *

Click here for part two.

Phoenix Rise Remix: Two

2.
Beryl read the tweet several times before retweeting the details of the contest. Write the lyrics to Phoenix Rise and win a prize: dinner and a special remix sold on iTunes.

* * * * *

Click here for part one.

Phoenix Rise Remix: One

Here's the deal. I have yet to finish my Maxwell Musze story. I hit a wall.

*groan*

I'll get to it, I'll get to it...probably. However, I got an idea for a different story that I'm taking from the beginning to the end. Actually it won't be a typical story, I have to keep it poetical (yes, poetical) and create a story completely of thirty-one word prose poems. Shout out to Evie Shockley for this particular poetry form. Maybe this story will trigger something in my brain to write more on the other story. Get your daily dose of poetry in fun-sized pieces.

* * * * * * *

1.
Flicking through her Twitter timeline, Beryl's attention rested on the third tweet from the bottom. It was from Chantay. Chantay's tweets were always about him, rhythm & blues' musical gem...M.