The Problem with the Pen
by Patricia Harris
the poetry seems to flow
when the pen is no where
within my grasp,
inspiration striking as sleep
begins to take ahold.
I wish my memory
was set to be
as perfect as writing
the words would be.
Then I would have never
lost the words that crossed
my mind you see.
Unspoken
by Patricia Harris
I have forgotten how
much I enjoyed
the wprds that were
a river flowing from my mind.
so much to say
I somehow never
expected the world
to kill the joy in words
I could so easily find ...
struck dumb in the face
of what was humanity revealed,
I hated what I found.
it was easier for me
to live in the unspoken
then to fight cruelty all over again.
I am seeing so many people argue about the truth lately. No one has any idea about what it is anymore. Here is what the truth is.
the truth is personal,
perspective skewed,
and always changing.
It is political as Hell
and painfully littered with bias
It is so powerful
and passionate about what it knows,
it is pure and simple
It always grows.
it is ego
it is faith
it is standing your ground
and it really gets around.
no one can tell you
what your truth is
no one knows it but you.
The Language of Poetry
by Patricia Harris
it seems like poetry
is so out of reach,
the language oft
dark and deep.
the poet's soul
broken into metaphor
and need,
written in a language
only the heart can read.
The Mood has changed
by Patricia Harris
I can see
the shift in your mood,
the intensity
of things falling in place.
building the moment
stone by stone,
the mood has changed
and so have you.
from the way
you are stacking
the emotions up like bricks...
the wall is so nearly built.
Hidden Within Books
by Patricia Harris
everything is in chaos,
political awareness
is enough to drive most of us
to the brink of death...
so I have decided that I will be found
hidden within my books,
hidden from the news,
hidden from the fear...
hidden in worlds written
to create personal peace.
in a time when dystopia
is current events,
I will choose fantasy,
romance and poetry...
to carry me away.
I actually waited longer than I usually do. Lost Notes is completely written and scheduled for release. I usually ask 5 or 6 poems from being done. Help me to choose the next volume?
Identity
by Patricia Harris
Who am I, Really?
Hiding behind labels,
Lost in pretending
I understand who
I am supposed to be.
There was a time
When I was sure
Of who I wanted to be,
No labels, no questions,
just me and who I wanted to be...
Age has changed me
adding fear, adding wear and tear...
adding the questions
and the lost identity
that I find the need to chase.
Perhaps forgetting is better
by Patricia Harris
Lost memories seem
to weave the idea of grief
into daily life,
speeding the thoughts
through the loom making
the blanket of heaviness
to weigh on the mind.
Perhaps forgetting is better,
a feather instead of stone...
the moment left alone
when the weight is less
on the shoulders than
Atlas knows.
Caustic
by Patricia Harris
The words that drip from your tongue
burn deeply into the soul,
Caustic like the acid,
Perhaps I am lost in a fog
of the brain melted by what you had to say...
I stand here broken,
wondering if I have made
many the wrong choice,
Walking through the acid rain...
for someone who will never see
the damage inflicted.
For the one who will always
cause me pain.
Pattimouse 