Bone Tired
By Patricia Harris
When does sleep
Finally catch up
With the tired
A lifetime long?
It’s not that I am complaining,
For life is full, and I am aware,
But more than three hours
Would help feel like
I have been mauled by a bear.
Humanity
By Patricia Harris
Define for me
That which makes us human?
The bits that keep us from
Being defined as animals
Or monster…
Remind me,
On my dark days,
That all that is within me
Is still humanity…
Even if I wonder if I ever
Was human at all?
The End
By Patricia Harris
Is once the word is spoken
at the end of it’s life,
nothing further for it to know?
or is the verse just beginning
and the speech the start
of all it will know?
Either way I feel like
the word spoken in verse
will catch something more than
interest and ignite a new thirst.
In the middle of madness
Lay the verse,
Written down to try to explain
Something dark and perfect.
That the world can be seen
With eyes shaded by dark things,
Or overgrown with flowers
That bloom in nightshade.
All of this is just an expression
Of poetry and the truth from
What a heart can bleed.
Words detached from the heart
Spelled into the pen,
Creating from the energy given
The poetry given to the world..
Perhaps I could do something more
With the energy than shaping it
Into the verse so fair,
But the perverse nature of my heart
Says that I must make the poetry.
Dead Inside
By Serena Mossgraves
The problem with life
Is expectations are so high
So much drama and the cost of pride.
It leaves everyone feeling
Like they might just be
Dead inside.
It drills holes in the soul
For emotion to crawl into
To hide.
In the world of verse
The possibilities are so very diverse.
Writing in a ruleset to meet the form,
Or taking the license to be
Whatever you want to be…
Poetry allows for all of these.
Probably the thing that scares away
Those who claim to hate
All that poetry has to say
Have just not found the poem
To affect them properly yet
In the right way.
* I do realize that I am posting it slightly early. I just got it written and decided that I didn’t want to take the chance of forgetting to post it.
Remind me
By Patricia Harris
I just don’t know how
to remix the words
that I wrote already
so perfectly.
Remind me that I have
a flaw or ten,
so I don’t see the writing
as perfection written.
* I am not actually sure if I do write perfectly…. but the prompt today was to remix one of our own poems. I hate remixes in general and I don’t want to do it to my own poetry. I have plans to do a revisiting poetry book but it is mostly going to be a discussion of my own poetry, not the remix.
putting into words
the best idea for who I am
is not always an easy thing.
picking up the pen
to write prose may be harder
than hiding behind poetry,
for in the poetry I have the ability
to express my thoughts more eloquently.
I am Human
by Patricia Harris
The best idea of who I am
is found in the mirror,
flaws showing,
Dreams weaving into a form
resembling something divine.
I am human,
with all that it might mean.
I am human,
with the whole world laid
out in front of my feet.
Pattimouse 