Putting the words
To the page
In an eye pleasing way
Is not all that poetry is,
Sometimes it is more
About ripping up
Your soul and placing
The pieces whole
In a way that tells
The story properly.
The poetry that doesn’t
Move poet nor reader
Was not written well.
Tell it True
By Patricia Harris
Without a reason
For the world to
Cover and hide,
I have found it
So much better
To just always
Tell it true.
Lying has no real
Use in the grand scheme,
Telling the truth
Means that you
Need never remember
What was said.
In putting the pen
To the paper
I may be committing
The darkest of sins,
For bleeding poetry
Is acknowledging
That the world
Yet can be used
To hurt the soul again.
It is not about the words,
The rhythm, or the verse,
It is merely about the truth
That only poetry can be
Made to let loose.
A Choice Made
By Patricia Harris
So I had a choice
And I made it,
Not sure if it was right,
But a choice was made
Anyway.
Perhaps I should plan
My choices better,
To avoid the mistakes…
But I feel like I would do it
The same way anyway.
Each verse is bled
Straight from heart
To page…
The poem is
Emotional waves
Solidified.
verse to ease a mind in chaos
written down in rhythm rehearsed.
poetic bent strengthened by
the age old desire to live eternal
as the moment lives.
so up goes the pen
to write the verse,
poetry makes sense…
for where else could
eternity possibly exist?
Falling in Reverse
by Patricia Harris
Spending the majority
of my life feeling like I am
Falling in Reverse,
standing up dizzy…
sitting down strong…
and yet is there really anything wrong?
Trying to figure out
why my life is so
backwards and wrong,
still fighting to remind myself
that I have always been
first and foremost strong.
Happiness is a mask
Applied as per needed.
Placed upon the broken soul
Per the desire to find
Internal calmness
Not found so
Easily that it must
Seem to be a
Sensation worthy of having.
Though lifting the pen
To bleed on the page
Seems like a gift,
A talent given,
I would argue that
There are days
When writing poetry
Feels like madness leaking
Outward from my head.
Rhythm and rhyme
Pulsing in time
To how broken
My heart is.
Pattimouse 