Writing poetry has always been cathartic for me. When a hard day hits, I get out my pen and yellow legal pad and just start crafting words to make beautiful, often somber pieces of art.
I write about my physical surroundings, about the people, places, and things that are on my mind. Even if my poems only end up being a line or two, they still always seem to bring me a sense of freedom, as if the concerns I had just moments before were released through the ink of that pen.
How do you clear you mind after a hectic day? Let us know in the comments.
PRACTICE
Even if you don’t consider yourself a poet, today I’d like to challenge you to find freedom through your pen as well. You can choose to write any type of poem you want: free verse, a haiku, a sonnet, etc.
The only rule is that you have to write about something that is currently concerning you, whether it is something that is causing you severe anxiety, or something as simple as the fact that you need to pick up your dry cleaning.
Write for fifteen minutes and share your practice in the comment section. Don’t forget to show some love to your fellow writers!
Here's my practice, two of my raw, yellow legal pad poems.
Passing
Breath exits lungs
like water down the drain
Gurgling bursts
of air and liquid
warring against each other
The Cruelty of Spring
Spring has unfurled without
thought or patience to
the way we have lived winter
Poetry is a wonderful art and us indeed cathartic! Please let people know about the National Association if Poetry Therapy. Members include mental health professionals, literary enthusiasts, etc.
Thanks for sharing this resource!
Thank you for this resource!
A cynic fights furiously with Hope
Mocking her, and knocking her down
But she always gets back up again
Silence proves him right at last
And she knows that she must depart
He wishes he were wrong instead
Wow … I carefully read the first part, and thought “Yeah”. Then I read and re-read the second part and thought “Oh, no … but yes it may often be so for many people” I love the part “He wishes he were wrong instead.” I’m interested in the role of silence. I’ll need to reflect on that some more.
I recently wrote a piece on hope that matches your first part (which is another reason your second part particularly caught my attention). Here is my version:
Hope is fragile and robust, fleeting and enduring.
Hope enters the heart nimbly and sprinkles rainbow sparkles.
Hope resides.
Hope inspires.
Some moments it feels like Hope is outmatched, but it never is.
Hope observes; Hope strategizes; Hope plans; Hope supports; Hope prevails.
Hope really is enduring, isn’t it 🙂
My piece was about wishful thinking and not wanting to hope because you know it’s impossible and you don’t want to be disappointed. And then, you’re proven right in the outcome of the event, but it turns out you were hoping after all. That’s what I was trying to capture in the last line.
Silence could’ve been replaced by “time”. In this case it was about waiting for a response that never comes.
Wow! Love the thought of a cynic fighting with hope. It truly is a battle at times between pessimism and optimism. Hope can be utterly terrifying, especially when it is all that we have.
I Noise
Sounds I wish would go extinct;
the sound of you slapping your face,
the sound from next door
of dumbbells dropping,
the sound of sand dumping
out of sneakers,
the sound of sirens,
the sound of a deep phlegmy cough
from an uncovered mouth,
the sound of an adult whining,
the sound of a child whining,
the sound of a fire burning
out of control,
the sound of a plate breaking,
the sound of aerosol spraying.
II Sounds
I would love to hear the sound
of chalk scratching on a black
board, less smelly than markers
on a white board.
Can we bring back the formerly
frequent sound of horses clumping
down Santa Fe’s Canyon Road?
How about more tea kettle
whistles, fewer microwave beeps?
I’ll take cats screeching
over people screaming.
Oh, to hear a cheetah yowl,
a bobcat growl.
The sound of a wood stove fire,
a stone skipping on water,
jacks on the sidewalk,
hopscotch, jump-rope.
The sound of you exhaling,
of me forgiving.
This is lovely and inspires me to reflect on sounds and noise.
Thanks Susan, I heard a Texas Poet Laureate karla morton) earlier this month, and she said something about sounds going extinct, which really grabbed my attention and led to this poem.
That’s true! There was an interview in The Sun magazine about that. He said that so many human made sounds: cars, car alarms, etc. are intruding into places he used to record. It is become harder and harder to hear the natural world.
I also read somewhere that birds are mimicking the sound of car alarms!
Sherrie Miranda’s historically based, coming of age, Adventure novel “Secrets & Lies in El Salvador” is about an American girl in war-torn El Salvador:
http://tinyurl.com/klxbt4y
Her husband made a video for her novel. He wrote the song too:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P11Ch5chkAc
Interesting.
Silence indeed can be deafening, leaving you hungry for noise and sound, even unpleasant ones. Love your poems!
Life now has so many stimulants and ‘Noise’ that it sometimes drowns out the beauty of silence in our worlds. I love both your poems. So true!
Thanks Shalin
Thanks for the invitation! Most of my writing is freeform poetry in response to life’s events. Here is one I wrote for a dear friend. Both of her parents just passed away within a couple months of each other. My mother passed away a year and a half ago, so I “get” the process she is going through.
Hold my hand, for I journey with you.
We are on the same path at different times, yet we journey together.
Uneven terrain that deceives our footing
Steep slopes straining us to our limit
Interminable shifts in the scenery
Glimpses of magnificence along the way
I enjoyed reading your yellow legal pad poems, Lacey, and I will visit your site to explore more of your writing.
I live in southern California, land of the even-tempered weather, therefore your “Cruelty of Spring” was particularly informing and thought provoking.
Thank you so much, Susan. Both of these poems were written within days of my grandfather passing, a reflection on death. Your poem speaks to me as well, as I am still venturing the steep slopes of grief. Keep it up!
Love goofy poetry:
The phone rings
I cringe in fear
Someone selling things
I spilled my beer!
Do not call list?
What a joke
I make a fist
Many noses to poke.
Disconnected phone,
Moved into a cave,
Created a clone
To be the telephones slave!
This made me laugh out loud. The no call list is indeed a huge joke!
Thanks for sharing, Joe, and making me smile. I wish I had a telephone slave.
Cheers,
Lilian
Thanks, That was fun.
Fun! I like the rhythm. Do you have the habit of making these up on the spot to fit a new situation? Great to have a clever spin on daily annoyances. : )
My mind kind of works that way! I love simple, easy rhyming poetry. I am a big fan of Edgar Allen Poe and Ogden Nash. As for inspiration, the PITA telemarketers have been driving me batty lately – and on my cell phone no less. The four letter word replies come out rather easily nowadays. Ah well, at least we can write fun stories about them.
Been updating my blog as much as I could for the April Poetry Month even tho’ I don’t get much views, but that wouldn’t stop me from sharing my poems. Can’t call myself a poet tho’, coming across this via my sister, I am so inspired to write more. Thanks for the sparks.
If you don’t mind, I will some part of my today’s post
Remember Me.
You may
Or you may not.
Find me still
In your silence
Remember me
As one;
Who tried to live
Maybe
Or maybe not.
Pass; this would
But
In the dark days
Remember me
Some day Or never.
I will understand
The truth;
As lie.
So the lie –
as truth
In your denials
Remember me still
Soon Or later
I may
Honour the call
By my hands
Or His hands;
The creator
So when you
Lit the candles
Remember me
But!
When you
Remember me
Remember!
To remember me,
As known and unknown!
………..jetmogah
Thought-provoking. Thanks for sharing and congrats on consistently putting your work out their for the world to see.
Olivia
Staring at the space
you once occupied
not very big
but huge
A smile
that lit the room
and my world.
One month gone
and I can still imagine
your smile
your baby skin.
How can someone
so small
leave such a big hole?
Grandma’s arms
are for cradling,
rocking, holding.
Not hanging empty
at my side
when the bough broke.
I sigh and wonder,
do you see me?
I look for you
in the sky
where we sent the balloons
Do you see?
I’m the one
looking lost
feeling lost
I search the clouds for an opening
hoping to see your smile
No luck
no smile
no peace
Trisomy 18
strong words
that carried you away.
I hear crying
and know it’s not you
there are no tears in heaven.
I then realize
it’s me
missing you again.
Look deeply into the sky
look through it
and maybe we’ll see each other
you’re just on the other side.
Anne, this is exquisite. I’ve read your sad news on Pamela’s ipaintiwrite site. Your poem beautifully expresses your love and your loss. The images and messages speak volumes. Thank you so much for sharing.
Susan,
Thanks for commenting on my poem. I appreciate your feedback.
Dear Anne, hello!
Your poem breaks my heart. You’ve told your story beautifully with so few words.
Please accept a heartfelt hug.
Lilian
Lillian,
Thanks for reading and for taking the time to comment. I guess Hemingway was right. Sometimes all we do as writers is bleed onto the paper. It’s not hard, when you’re wounded. And thank you for your hug. It’s much appreciated. Especially today. My sister’s birthday. Peggy was the victim of domestic violence back in 1982. We didn’t get to be sister’s very long. But I did write our collective story in a book and I bled that out too. If you know anyone who has struggled with domestic violence, or who would like to understand it better, tell them to get Broken.
Again, thanks Lillian for your kind and gentle words.
Thank you Anne for taking time to reply.
Domestic violence is a horrible crime, and yet, when we’re kids, we only know how to submit and suffer. I’m so sorry for your sister.
Where can I get ‘Broken’? I’d love to read it.
Lilian,
Broken is available in Kindle and paper, on Amazon. I have a promotion that will start tomorrow for the Kindle that will make it only $.99. Then $1.99 the next day, and $2.99 the following day. 3 day promotion.
Many thanks Anne. I will download and read right away.
God Bless!.
Wow! I had tears in my eyes when I read this. I like how you’ve ended it on a hopeful note. Beautiful!
Shalini,
Thank you for reading and for your comment.
Such a beautiful reflection. I am moved deeply by your words.
Lacey,
Thanks so much for your feedback. I appreciate it.
As a parent who’s children have all left the nest. I get a sense of sorrow in your
words. A definite pull on my heart strings. I feel your sorrow, and pray for your healing.
Tommy,
Yes, our little granddaughter died March 11th. She was only 14 months old. Thank you for your comment and especially for your prayers.
Wonderfully expressive piece. I am sorry for your loss but I love the optimism at the end of the poem.
Thank you so much for reading and for your comment. Because we are Christians we do know we’ll see her again, and yet, the pain is still real.
I really feel for your loss. Your expression is so poetic, heart warming amidst your/our shared grief.
Wish you well, and yes, your grandchild is just on the other side, waiting for you.
Thank you for your comments. They were encouraging.
A weekend project.
Two half finished reports.
Exams approaching.
Save the semester bells
Ringing already
Ignored them without a care.
“I’ll do it later.
There’s still a lot of time left”.
A procrastinator extraordinaire
lives in my head,
and he will complete this poem later.
I like the staccato thoughts bouncing around in the procrastinator’s mind.
Ha! Nice twist at the end.
I wanted to become a procrastinator too – I just haven’t gotten around to it yet!
If you always write what you know
you will only know what you write.
If you had a bad day,
there has to be another way.
If you hate the world,
Some things maybe hurled,
But things break,
and the world shakes,
just go for another take.
I like it!!!
I like that it says so much with so few words,LOL. I haven’t quite mastered that skill yet. I like to see when others do it though.
Mastery is a far fetched goal :O
So kool! I can relate to the hurling 🙂
“just go for another take” … great advice.
Thanks for sharing.
Indeed, sometimes I’d do a lot for another take!
Here is a poem about something that’s been bothering me a lot lately, centered around war.
Hymn for the Lost
sky black as tar, blood red as berries
smoke hangs heavy in the air, masking the broken bodies
the ground shakes with the rumble of a thousand tanks
and together we run through the shadows
me, my troops, and I
the world splinters around us
leaving me numb, ears ringing, still running
grass and dirt fly — another man down
running faster, someone hits the ground
me, my troops, and I
the last stretch is ahead, the base like a beacon
legs pumping, heart burning, guns at our backs
above us, choppers buzz; a swarm of angry hornets
plumes of ash rising, pillars in the sky as we run
me, my troops, and I
tell my mother I love her, I want to scream
and let my sister know I fought well
but all I can hear are the guns, unrelenting
I’m praying, oh God, save us now
me, my troops, and I
the battlefield is ablaze with steel and fire
I stagger forward three steps
and sink to my knees in the grass
my only words; God save us, please
me, my troops, and I
in the midst of the steel maelstrom
I watch the sky with empty eyes
hands reaching for those left behind
another boom, and my last man goes flying
leaving me, myself, and I
oh… compelling, compelling images, raising my pulse rate and halting my breath …until the last line … forced my breath in
A recent poem I wrote very much fits this, I’d like to share, also constructive criticism would really be appreciated!!
Like an egg, robust and bursting with life, yet fragile and ready to crack,
And holding onto tomorrow, hoping for sunshine to make up what we lack.
Like a small cyclone, ready to burst out of the treetops,
But like an exhausted kitten, before it begins it stops.
Like a woman with lots to do, not really a moment to spare,
But she spares a moment anyway, else how would she fare?
Pushing moments aside, deflecting each like a slow,
Feeling each moment drip, like a needle, pushing thread through slow.
Come to the end of your tether, we can go no further though we strain,
So tie a knot in your bedsheets, relax and watch the moon wane.
Curl up like an egg in a nest, know there’s nothing to do,
An eggs job is just to be an egg, and your job is just to be you.
And I’d like to say how much I enjoyed reading all the poems, in the comments and in the article, so many great pieces, with some amazing word pictures in them!
beautiful message wrapped in a delicate yet strong shell. I’ll re-read this to let it sink in some more. Thanks for sharing.
Thanks Susan, I really appreciate that! And I enjoyed your poem too 🙂
I think the simplest message in this poem is just that sometimes in our busy lives we’ve got to take some time out and just stop, because life is draining! And nobody can keep going all the time even if they want to!
But that’s the great thing about poetry, is that each poem can speak to us in completely different ways, and that’s why I find it so fun to write! 🙂
Well, here goes nothing….
Well, well, what a day.
But, I will never stray.
I had a hectic day.
But, tomorrow is another day.
And, I’m okay.
Have a good day.
Hip hip hooray
for what you say
24 hours of gray
lead to another of play.
Glad you posted!
Hey! That was pretty good! Thanks!☺☺
Freeverse
______________
My toes dipped into obscurity
Sending fear to curl into my spine,
The lack of sense and the need for air,
I can only ponder what else I can do,
That which, is far, far better than I have ever done. (eyy)
The miasma rolls off my mind like dunes,
Patterns only the remnants of past moons,
Many moons and suns spent sick and weak,
Wondering whether the best of me was enough,
Or whether it was the best and more than.
My wonder merely the product
Of a solemn muse.
The final moon passes,
And the Eastly knight rises
With news of my fate.
What befalls me was waited,
And my best did not add up,
Yet tears did not fall like my hopes.
Miasma shutters away from my air,
And my toes edge away from the obscure,
While I ready myself for the dive,
The plunge, into the realm grounded by a
Will of fire.
____________
Yeah, just my 15 year old self writing about my feelings after I was rejected from a writing program. XD To summarize the random poem, I’m not salty anymore. (BTW my fiction is better.)
The itch
I try to resist the itch.
It seduces me,
It beckons me,
It pains me. I still resist.
But it does not give up.
Gnawing, grinding, growling,
Trying it’s hardest for a little scratch.
I must resist.
The itch is clever however,
It is patient in its attack.
The crafty itch waits
Strikes when the time is right.
It’s been gone for so long,
No trace of it now.
Guard is let down,
And then comes a wave,
Senses awaken, alive to fight.
The itch invades your mind
It takes up more space.
It’s consumes all thoughts,
The discomfort and lust.
And so then comes submission,
Resisting no more.
There was never any hope in the first place.
Very nice! Been there – done that.
This is awesome. Who would have thought the topic of an itch could be delved into in such detail and be described in such an eloquent manner. Fun!
Chemo’s not so bad
If you don’t mind the needles
the drugs with their long names,
anti-this and anti-that,
battling each others’ side effects.
Like the itchy rash
that first afternoon, then
my head whirling from the anti-histamine,
and the headaches both days.
I’m very thankful
the chemo’s not so bad
this time around. Two days
and I’m done now.
Four weeks to recover;
seems like a long time
but they’ll be gone in a flash.
And I’ll be back in that room again
with that IV pole beside me
feeling the sting of the needle
inserted into my arm like a wasp,
stings! The drugs flowing in.
Beating back the lymphocytes
running amok in my marrow.
No, chemo’s not so bad—
better than dying, eh?
thank you. thank you. thank you. Your examples bring your journey to us. I am so sorry you’re having to face this huge life challenge and having to experience the pain and the drudgery of chemo and its effects. I love you message because that positive perspective contributes tremendously to healing.
Wishing you many self-created “delightful” moments around your chemo treatments so YOU are in control and YOU guide the experience so it serves you at many levels.
Thank you! I’m not sure how profitable it is to relate my woes, but this is life right now. I’m glad if you found a bit of inspiration in my words.
Wow! I was so moved by what you wrote. Every word grabbed me by the throat and kept me until the last second. Whatever you do, don’t stop writing!
Thank you. There are definitely ‘up’ times and ‘down’ times to this affair.
This is amazing. I don’t have any other words except that I admire your bravery.
I hardly know if I deserve a citation for bravery. Some things we simply must face if we want to survive at all. What’s hardest, at times, is to keep from thinking too much about it all.
Yes … It does not define you
Yes, sometimes life is hard, it’s true
But the more you get to know it,
The more it becomes soft . . . like a pillow
. . . or a marshmallow
Peace to you all!
Sherrie
Sherrie Miranda’s historically based, coming of age, Adventure novel “Secrets & Lies in El Salvador” is about an American girl in war-torn El Salvador:
http://tinyurl.com/klxbt4y
Her husband made a video for her novel. He wrote the song too:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P11Ch5chkAc
The idea of noise appealed to me – this what came out
Noise
It makes me angry
It makes me want to kill
The sound of noisy vehicles
Screeching past my house
Roaring V8 engines exhausts unleashed
Look and me, look at me
I have no brains but I can make noise
Clattering, sputtering Harley’s
Look and me, look at me
I have no brains but I can make noise
Revved up and racing past
Look and me, look at me
I have no brains but I can make noise
Screeching round corners
Look and me, look at me
I have no brains but I can make noise
Gunning it up hills
Look and me, look at me
I have no brains but I can make noise
It makes me angry
It makes me want to kill
The sound of noisy vehicles
Accelerating past my house
I enjoyed the descriptive phrases you used: “clattering, sputtering Harley’s” and “revved up and racing past”, “screeching round corners”, “gunning up hills” and the concept of “I have no brains but I can make noise”.
thanks Susan – I like the idea of using poetry to vent feelings, and as away to get the writing flowing
how many actually care?
predators here companions there
nothings that clear.
my lens depicts disaster
crumbling seas; drunken trees
swirling deadly ever after
a collection of crying faces
how many are displayed? for they only ever waid
the world smiling with braces.
I cry out! beg for help! I plead to another,
“i’ll assist you, don’t worry”
but “help yourself” they utter
when the highest mountain you will ever have to climb
is yourself
how will you ever reach the summit?
when the darkest valley you will ever have to navigate
is yourself
how will you ever leave the shadows?
when the longest day you will ever have to live through
is measured by your own time
how will you ever escape the clock?
when you put the water in your lungs
drop by drop and careful and calculated
and you hold your wailing mouth closed
darling, don’t cry when you drown
Powerful (!) statement about how we hold ourselves back and put obstacles in our own path.
Tacit
I was hurt and I was angry,
And it caught me unprepared.
That a word could hurt as badly,
When it’s one you left unsaid
I love this. Each line contributes effectively to illustrating the experience and feelings. I especially like the surprise of “that a word could hurt as badly, when it’s one you left unsaid.”
Nicely done. Thanks for sharing.
Your words move me, have me reflecting on some of my own hurt feelings. It truly is amazing how unsaid words can hurt worse than ones that were.
You are so far from perfect.
I love you so much.
poetic for sure! What greater love poem would you want?
Hey, Dina here
For the hectic day question; on the rare occasion that my mind is ever cluttered
I drink coffee, always coffee or I watch or read something.
A free verse poem
I’m know I’m going down
i knowI ‘m sinking
I know i won’t hold on
I know this isn’t that bad
I know I can’t see the clouds
i know I’m looking for no way out
and suddenly I’ve stopped and maybe
Just maybe that’s the only thing that keeps me here afloat
Drifting only drifting with the water all around
Feeling nothing, not the wave, not the current
not the sand, not the pebbles, not the sting rey, nor the creatures
in this murky water that surrounds
and if I open my eyes I’ll see
just for a moment
before i drown
but for now
I’m still, as the torrents push me around
and further down
I am bound
by nothing but myself
Here are two – rough at best – They go together as bread and butter.
#1)
He sits, resting
Just lying there
He does not care the torment he brings
No love, not a smidgeon of compassion
I say to him get up! Do something!
No response,
It brings such agony to my heart,
My mind feels like it has been seared,
What doth thou ask of me,
What must I do!
I feel the urge to reach out and, and….
Oh I forget now,
I must start all over,
Come to me my friend,
Let us compose something new.
#2)
You are two,
Two bees,
Two People,
Two worlds,
Two elements,
Two is a common denominator,
It affects more than you think,
What can you do with just one?
One without the other does not work,
One is messy bulky and looks bad,
One does nothing but makes you warm,
Together these two make for so much,
The art you can share,
The words that make a life, a death, a story, a home,
You two need eat other like Pea and Nut.
Journey of Love
Despite the interminable distance,
in a brumous and sunny path
Under a mysterious & transparent condition,
alone in his way
He started his journey
He spent sleepless night in desire of meeting his destiny
somewhere in the way of his journey
Sometimes the pouring drop of hopes
where blown away by the blustery winds of despair
And sometimes the violently rushing stream of disrupts drown him
Breathe of zest sail him athwart
Halt came in his journey
he gifted what he has
some misused it & some preserved it
he again started his illimitable journey
with his pals-faith & trust
in the search of new halt
And like this
THE JOURNEY OF LOVE CONTINUES………..
In the presence of heartache
Sleep melts like a snowflake
At night I lay awake
Only to tremble and shake
My heart yearning
With desires burning
If she only would meet my glance
If I only had another chance
Since I last saw her smile
It has been a while
But I will never forget
Although,
I will forever regret
Worry.
It flutters, making me stutter.
The glint of hope
That I saw lying in my chest
Is swept away by your deceit.
Cause me so much pain
Just by trying to stay.
The sensation of “worry” rose in my chest as I imagined the impact of your words. I especially like “the glint of hope that I saw lying in my chest is swept away by your deceit” and “just by trying to stay”. PART of what I like about it is that you used “saw” rather than felt.
This is an effective, thought-provoking piece. Thanks for sharing.
Thanks Susan…really appreciate your feedback.
Why am I here? I again ask myself
As down the alley I trod
At worst it of waste of everyone’s time
At best it is a babysitting job
I thought it would be different,
Thought I would be useful
Work outside my zone for a while
Now I find myself expected to waste time
Ride buses to nowhere
Wander aimlessly through shops and stores
With no purpose than I can see
The students need help, I keep reminding myself
I really thought I could help
Now I realize that the day’s purpose is just to get them out of the house
If only we could be honest
Let their parents know
That the most important thing they will do today is play tic-tac-toe
They’re written their resumes time and again
Worked too many hours as a retail store volunteer
Pretended to clothes shop
On intentionally extended shopping trips
And sat through ‘classes’ they can never understand
They have dreams like all people
And an incredibly more difficult life than most
But there must be a better, more productive way
For them to spend four hours each day
I thought I could help them
And I believe it is help they need
But I know longer think
That the help this organization offers
Is what’s best for them or me
oh … the deflating of hope … the drudgery of a job uninspiring, especially when the original promise was one of hope … the focused re- and re- and re-evaluation of the situation with suggestions for change … that don’t come.
Hi everyone, this is my first time posting so here goes…
Once independent, now a drifter
a damaged soul, anxious and depressed
I wait for the end, yearn for a light
I believe the eternal promise that another soul will fill this gaping hole
Waiting for a saviour
Waiting for a miracle
Waiting for a sign, any sign, that life will get better
Through years of struggle and tortuous thoughts
hiding and cowering from the darkness
tired and drained from the never-ending battle
It finally dawns on me…
Its time I let go
released the sorrow
flood the darkness with light, my light
quell the urge to beat on my soul
Its time, once and for all, to trust in the process and Give it to God!
Welcome! You will find a lot of inspiration here. While I am eager to read others’ feedback on my posts, whether that comes or not, I learn so much from others’ posts and am constantly inspired. I hope you are also.
I was carried along by your poem. The emotion in your piece grows to a crescendo, exposing the tough road that is laid before us at times. I’m so thankful that the “release” was one of renewed HOPE and light.
Enjoy your explorations of The Write Practice and of your own writing!
Thanks Susan, for your warm welcome and encouraging feedback 🙂
It is fear that fills me up,
Like ink in a fractured cup.
With black and blues,
– and crimson red,
And crooked hues,
– an unkept head.
Fearing words I cannot hone,
Fearing words that are my own.
And when I write
– oh please, oh please,
I fear rejection
– I’m on my knees.
wow
I was wondering what the fear was, then, of course, it became clear. I think the feelings come in well-structured stanzas with effective rhyme. I enjoyed this.
Time
It slips between my fingers
It seeps outside my lungs
And as it passes through me
It takes me with it
And most carries nothing
Wasted seconds
Wasted breath
Dead aspirations
And untold revelations
And as it flows I chase it
Stumbling
Running
Falling
All about in a brave attempt
To reclaim what was lost
Wrongfully stolen from me
But the flow grows stronger
And the tide grows longer
This thief is tearing me apart
First my youth
My dreams
My will to go on
Until I’ve withered to nothing
But a bit of shale in the river
Whom, if stepped upon,
Will shatter
And I will have never mattered
And all the time spent chasing
Was spent losing rather than
Gaining precious moments
Which are too heavy
For any thief to carry
But the realization hits me
Too soon, and too late
For there is nothing I can do
The tide has worn me through
stunning …
The imagery is compelling. I enjoyed this.
This is such a relatable poem! I think it’s something everyone is afraid of, that our fight against time will eventually be all for nothing. I think it’s so important to find ways to step back and enjoy a few moments right here!
Thanks for sharing this poem, I really enjoyed reading it!
Flowers and candles
Doors opening and closing
People walking past windows
Are noisy to me.
Seeing a dog barking
Feeling the vibrations an engine before it zooms past
Seeing a child cry
People whooping
This is how I visually hear.
I see how loud the wind is by the bending of trees
I see how loud the rain is by the pouncing of the rain
I see I’m not alone in the forest by the sudden flight of birds
This is how I hear.
Thank you for this insight. Each element made me stop and ponder, perhaps “are noisy to me” the most. I enjoyed reading this. Thanks for posting it.
I’m trying to express how I hear through my deafness. Thank you.
You did a great job. I hope I was clear that when I said “made me stop and think” it was not because your message was unclear, but rather your images allowed me to try to experience another perspective.
That’s great. Exactly what I hoped to do x
Warmth, your skin on mine.
The stubble of your beard pressed against my cheek
This is comfort to me in its purest form.
Something that before you, was an unknown,
Something I could never open up enough to receive.
Not that the gestures weren’t given.
I just didn’t believe them.
Something about your quiet acceptance
Of me, and all of my faults
Gives me the strength to accept this from you.
You reassure me, surround me in the love
I never presumed to want.
Shed my tears over you
I wonder why this I do?
Though my eyes never set on you
Dad, how could you do this to me?
Bringing me to a world you ought to leave
Never said dad out loud
Never had the chance to
dance with your arms around
how can I miss your voice
though I never heard you calling me out
I don’t know if I miss you
or miss having a dad around
Every time I see a photo of you
I think it should be me taking this photo for you
Every time a stranger gives me a piece of advice
I think it should be you tell me not to be out of my mind
Fear
False appearances
A phantom thought
Distorting reality
Paralyzing the will
A seal on creativity
You are an enemy
Like Satan your father
Fear begone. Get lost!
Wow ..thank U
But could u tell me what to do to overcome all of this ?
SEA SALT
by John Yeo
The waves of change came suddenly
Smoothing the sands of time.
Sea salt was the bounty harvested,
On the family production line.
The head of the family at the helm
Kept the workers and colleagues in line.
Tragedy came with death in the family.
Rough times ahead was the sign.
A once strong unity disintegrates
In the granules of unity unrefined.
Chaotic influences out of control
Destroyed a once strong family line.
Each faction headed, unrest rebounds
The sea washed away without a sign.
Rubbing salt in the reopened wounds
On the once strong production line.
Copyright ~ Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved.
John, thanks for sharing your poem.
I like the way in which you’ve told how a family disintergrates by the loss of an important member.
I love rhyming verse, and the last two lines, ‘Rubbing salt… production line’ is what caught me up.
Lilian
Stardust
We are all just stardust
But smaller than that
And we decide
Who our own stars are
We linger along
Through the vast cosmos
Some of us standing strong
But some of us wait for so long
In the end
We depend on our own stars
If we’re even afire
If we are even alive
But we have a little faith
For our own stars
We wait
And until then;
We are stardust.
You’ve taken your last breath
As you tried to stay strong
You thought there was no other way out
But you were totally wrong
I wish you could see
How many people miss you
Since they were there
Even though you had no clue
Now it’s too late
To show how much we care
When sleep became a dream
And life became a nightmare
We’re too late
To stop you from trying
There were many other ways out
But you chose dying
Tears fall down my face
As the news breaks my heart
But now you’re in a better place
All fresh, ready for a new start
All she can do is twist and turn…
we all know how hard it is when we have to let those feelings burn.
she cries herself to sleep.
It feels as if she’s locked in her own prison.
Reality is gone as she cant escape this endless pain, all she can do is weep.
At this point in time she wouldn’t mind being six foot deep.
Nothing remains.
My instagram is Yus_98 that’s where I post my writing/ poetry
A road trip and book research put me at the top of Lemhi Pass in Idaho this past summer. This is pretty much ground zero for Sacajawea and a couple dudes she pretty much saved, Lewis and Clark…..she at age 14 and carrying a newborn I might add.
Silent aching vastness
The wind caresses up above. Softly
Impossible blue sky arches overhead
Heat squeezes down
I go to the edge of the road
Look down into Agency Creek
Ground level crickets chirp
But the view out to forever
Draws me back to the big sky
I imagine what this pass was like
When two million miles of unknown
Surrounded Lewis and Clark
very cool
The End
At the end of a long road
Nowhere else to go
No left No right
Nowhere in sight
Look up my child
Beauty in the life you leave
Heaven waits for those who seek
MY BEGINNING – LIKE YOUR BEGINNING
I am talking to you from a hollow muscular organ in the pelvic cavity of my mother
Space running out now – One of these days it will be all over
I shall probably be squeezed out of proportion before I see the light
Cannot say that I am looking forward to that the move
While I spend the balance of my time here in the same position ( head under)
I have a couple of thoughts to share with you
I am no dumb little creature – actually hyper intelligent
Imagine and appreciate the angle from which I speak here
My existence started off with rapid speed – you know that ‘love thing ‘
Next moment …whoops… here I am – caught between contractions of soft tissue – ouch
As is happening night and day without stop all over the world -multiple deeds of creation
STOP RIGHT HERE MAN AND WOMEN
You ought to be satisfied with yourself and your creation
I am cute enough to entertain you for the rest of your life
However, much of my further development will depend on you managing my first years
With no perfection, but straight up to your ability , I trust
I receive you ( my parents ) as you are – willing to strike out all fears for my unknown
I know about your stresses from day one – or so it feels
I hear your voice – when in conversation with yourself or somebody else
I am aware of changes in the rhythm of your heartbeat – sad when you are sad
My heart beats faster when you tune the music
Especially when you sing along and relax in bath – rubbing your belly
Cuddling me in preparation for the squeeze
Before I burst out of you – and into Life
THAT WAS MORE THAN FIFTY YEARS AGO
NOW
Like a new born I am staring at the whites of the page below
Not knowing what will flow from this keyboard
I am sitting in my office – all alone – my place of silence for now
Aware of the bright ‘ less – than – half ‘ – moon sailing the skies above
I have lots to say about many a subject – but it just feels right to start from a blank
awaiting thoughts to effectively line up – and become words as I type in open honesty
I am scrolling through memories – Too many to conclude in a one night script
Fruitful reminders of where I were and where I am heading to
Along my journey I had my own inspirations – being topped up by you and other people
who crossed my life – either confirming or denying my traditional beliefs
I never doubted my purpose in life before – My destination was too clear
Perceptions drafted over many years – listing the right from wrong
2008
Religious T – Junction reached – I had to reverse – get away from where I headed to
Reading the Book once more – from beginning to end – my intent
Not skipping contents that does not make sense – until I could no more
Something was wrong – either me or the Book – how do I know
People live from moment to moment – no awareness and gratitude
Not knowing how to reset themselves from inferior attitudes and purpose
or from their own disconnections and imperfections
Yet clinging to a belief system based on fear and exclusion
One desire : Truth must set me free
Unforbidden thoughts initially blocked by my own set of barriers
How do you drop old clothes to stand naked before your lifelong self – I could not tell
How do you tear yourself from lifelong beliefs without internal bleeding – I bled
I remember lying on my bed – too scared to think at one point
Talking to Somebody invisible I did not want to hurt
Holding my breath as tears welled up – without being spilled
The fear of becoming disconnected from all I ever knew and believed
What if I need to return to my traditional Understanding and must hear
This is too late , you had your chance , you are rejected by own choice
I took a chance that night – became the first of all my blank pages to follow
Scared – but with my life to be devoted to a new Idea
New Idea – No Name – No Picture – Terrible Feeling – Seriously alone
In the interest of my own Consciousness and Course I needed it sorted
I scroll back to my beginning to relive every moment in pain
I could no longer apply the rule of exclusion
“If you do not believe like I believe , then go to hell “
Religious judgement going from bad to worse
Could be the ultimate cause of current world chaos
Old and new journeys come with crossings , distractions and places to stop
Whenever a symbol calls for a halt in our journey – we should obey !
Where we come from ( my past ) is an integral part of our future
Every bend in our road a possible deed of inclusion
Our journey is never too short or too long
Only at completion will it become tagged : your deed of inclusion
Summarise
I have interrupted my journey – re-written my story
Dropping my guard while seeking the Truth
Seeing many like myself – products of a lifetime of tradition
Voluntary imprisonment – bound by rules of tribe
Battling struggles – fighting so called wrongs
Never to doubt the echoes of their own wrong beliefs
Ultimately my wish for every child of the Universe
is to be reborn to a new beginning of peace and harmony in absolute honesty
Song of my life
I remember sitting on my lawn autumn 2013
coloured leaves scattered all around me
Awareness of my inner self bouncing to pop out of its shell
Feeling invited into everything I am surrounded with
I have become a little bird flying from stream to stream
Over hills and valleys and along waterfalls
Uplifted by winds from below
I gather clouds and colourful skies In both my arms
I am one with my beautiful world
The orange to purple sunsets dancing over horizons
I am the raindrops falling into small pools of my little stream
I have become my own early autumn – Spreading my leaves all over
Covering more than just my own small space
I now follow my little stream all the way to where one day it will become
Part of the many waters from other little streams
Sharing my destination
A Lightning Romance
I love her but chase dreams,
promise her a hero
then long for escape.
I must have the magic,
the sweet delicious pleasure
but never the life.
The beautiful goddess beside me
whispers to my soul,
but fear is always there.
I am the villain in our play.
Note: I did this one with Magnetic Poetry tiles. They’re lots of fun to play with!
I like this!
Seriously … With magnetic tiles? I was impressed reading your poem, and the tile process puts a fun twist to it. I can just imagine your brain firing away as you shuffled the words and the story unfolded. : )
RAZOR STROP
MEMORIES © Grace V. Robinette 2016
Just wrote
a response
Writing
prompt, a Child’s Perspective:
Childhood memory
zinged
Pain as yet
unhealed.
‘Have you
seen your daddy’s carrot?’
Mother’s
friend stared aghast
My white
faced response.
Don’t tell!
He belted
me
Swung that razor
strop
Each time I
tried to speak.
What would the neighbours think?
For years
my throat seized up
Each time I
tried to speak.
Mute with
mind-filled horror
What would the neighbours say?
At 89 he
finally died. I was 61.
My throat
started to relax.
Words. Phrases
became sentences
I started
to speak.