Category: poetry

Looking for Inspiration

This year has been better than last, Emotionally and physically I am in a good place. Still after the hell that was 2015, I find myself in more of a hold than normal. I normally write at least 70 poems in a year and at least a story of some sort.  Even if I end up destroying the stories, I do write them. Yet this year has been an inspirational void. I have them…after major life changes.  It makes sense if you think about it. How does one appreciate the poetry of life, when the mind is still adjusting to chaos that comes from being truly a hot mess. I still see the poetry, still feel the story.  Surrealism clouds a busy mind.

For me March is one I almost always have a distracted mind during. This month is my birthday month. I am not a single bit worried about my age, however that doesn’t mean I don’t contemplate what growing older means. I expected that I would be so much more and yet I am farther than I thought I would be. So many of life’s choices have led me down a path that led me in both dark and light places that i could have never imagined. Today I am forty. I have made choices, both good and bad.  In Eleven days, I will be forty and one . It always strikes me as strange.  Perhaps that is why March sets me on my ear.

found this delightful

12790925_974377382654903_3769105369782270977_nFound on Facebook. All credit to the Buddha Doodles. Original Quote by an amazing Poet – Maya Angelou. ❤

 

Random acts of poetry

In the heart of the poet,

Each moment in time.

written in verse

both loose and light.

darkness ebbs with the mind,

An overwhelming heart bound tide.

 

Lyrics touching deep within

singing the song,

of souls adrift

comforting

warping.

setting the mind

free to dream,

free to believe.

 

Distant memory

of words spoken in rhyme,

Iambic measure, Rhythm and time.

Pushing boundaries

Just to feel alive.

 

Creative Rivers Flow

I truly believe that everyone has some font of creativity.  Most never see that streak within themselves. For some it comes out in form of fashion, In some it is an eye for color in Decor. Some write, some draw. Every creative act nourishes the soul.  So each person needs some way of expressing that. I personally think that those with an uncertainty and self doubt end up expressing more of a creative nature. Which is why much poetry and art has pain and darkness at it’s base.  All forms of creative expression are the mind’s way of dealing with extra stress and extra doubt.

Mind you, I am not claiming this is a bad thing. I applaud any way that leads the mind to cope with life. I think that creative expression of pain and doubt lead to much of the beauty in our world. It amazes me how much  beauty exists.  I am all over the place when it comes to beauty. Enjoying a well written song, a beautiful poem. Smiling over a gorgeous picture, a well done show. Eclectic in my personal decor and jewelry. There are many enjoyments I have in all forms of beauty and creative expression. What is it that you think of creativity? What is your thoughts on Beauty?

Snowdrops

After midnight,
Staring out the window.
Softly drifting white,
Covering all within my sights.
Hesitant to enjoy
Such a coldly pretty view,
For fear of embracing
Even something new.

Soft snoring emanating
From yet a few feet away,
Reminding me only
Of tomorrow’s busy day.

Asleep,  should i be
Not starting through
A quiet,  cold night,
Wondering what i might
Begin to plan and make.

Not today dear

I know I should write,
Should create and
share my light.
I should tell my story
For all the world to hear.
Not today dear.

There is laundry
To wash, dry and fold.
There is blog entries
Left to be told.
Poetry I must
Write so well.
Social activity
To lessen my hell.
Not today dear,
Can’t you tell?

Today was just
A wee bit much,
So though there is
A lot of stuff
Requiring me to do….
Not today dear.

Individual I

Blending in,
For now everyone
Has the traits
That used to mark me
As unique.

My idiosyncrasies
Are now community,
Nothing new or remarkable
In my mind today.

Was individual,
And even slightly weird,
Now everyone does
What i began.

So now i sit
And slightly sigh.
For looking around,
And dreaming that I
Could return to the time
When I was unique
Just once more.

I spoke the truth

I spoke the truth
In a tiny voice,
I spoke the truth
To be told i lied.

I hang my head
in utter shame,
For i spoke the truth,
And you turned away.

I shook my hands,
With a frustrated cry,
Trying to just be heard.
I spoke the truth,
I did not lie.

I was brave,
Though inside i feared,
I spoke the truth,
It was denied.

How can i believe
That i will be safe?
For all is how he said,
I spoke the truth,
No one heard.

Grown and wary,
Weak and weary.
Haunted by what
Cannot ever be undone.

I spoke the truth,
When will i be
Believed?

Homeless

There’s room at the inn,
But I have no money to pay.
The world is cold tonight,
And I have no place to stay.

No I am not lazy,
Nor too awful crazy.
Things just really have not
Been going my way.

My stomach is a growling,
My head has been a spinning,
Yet not a bite can I find
For me to eat.

No jobs available for me to find,
Want a hand up?
must be outta my mind.

There’s room at the inn,
But I’ve no money to pay.

Searching within,
Trying just to see
The worth in me.
Silencing the voice
Deep within
Telling me,
Each and every
One of the flaws
Lest i forget.

Some days it’s easier
Some days i fail.
Still each day
Awaken and arise
Each day i search.

Never giving in,
Never giving up.
Someday the voice
I will cease.
My own worth
I will see.