He always seemed to be a mark that poets of my generation were expected to try for. While I enjoy his work, I found others who touched my soul more.
Posted by Patricia Harris, Author on Thursday, March 24, 2016
I am
I have always had issues with self image.
I am a poet.
I am a writer, published and paid.
I am a jewelry artist, who has made money.
I am an artist, for my own pleasure.
I am an attractive woman.
I am a mother. Of a full grown son and a preteen girl.
I am Momo (aka grandmother)
I am a computer geek who can program in C#
i am a game master who has been running games for nearly twenty years and has taught many to play.
I am a decent cook and a better baker Most of the time.
I am an intelligent and seeking mind.
I am a blogger.
I am occasionally funny.
I am a voracious reader.
I am a good listener, A fair friend, and a devoted girlfriend.
I am Loyal to a fault.
I am usually kind.
i am usually honest.
I try to be generous, i try to be understanding and i try to be a good friend.
Yet i fight the feeling of failure and fight feeling a lack of worth…
because even though i am all of those things…
some days it feels like all that i am is worthless in the grand scheme of life.
And the worst part is I know I am not alone in how I feel….
Discipline and creativity
I am struggling to finish what i start. I keep finding new ideas….which is awesome. Then I have none that are getting finished because there is me working on new stuff. So i have been making myself work on all of my projects that are in progress. trying to build discipline and actually finish one. If i finish all of these then I will be a hugely published chick…lol. I am afraid I am led by my creativity too often. I avoid the writing prompts so as not to add to the growing list of W.I.P.’s but I still end up with a story idea now and then that smacks me. The newest one came from a discussion with another writer about how I hate to title my stories. She sent me to a random generator for titles. (Thank you) However instead of helping me to title what I already have, It gave me a new avenue to explore. I ended up doing research (yes i have a scary search history….I am a writer. I must explore the random crap that pops into my head.) And writing the first hundred or so words on the story. The only thing I am sure on with that story so far is the Title…
so far my titles for my Wip’s are:
Journeys (A story about a lost individual fighting to survive…with amnesia and while injured)
Elizabeth ( A story about a noblewoman and her ancestors mostly told in journal format)
Last Forever ( a love story about a young girl raising her siblings and struggling to find her way in life)
The Incubus and Ysobel ( a half demon hunting her father and finding herself along the way) * btw this is the new one.
Jhai’s Tale ( a drow assassin and a kobold thief form a unlikely partnership while trying to avoid the temple of Lloth and find her siblings.)
Beyond Focus ( a young girl of fae decent finds herself in the land of the fae and has to adjust to the change that happens in her)
Broken Wastelands ( a post apocalyptic steampunk tale of a girl and her mutant)
Builder’s University ( a scifi story about creatures that eat intellegence…and the university they hide in. And the student who is out to stop them)
And I will eventually do one more (at least) children’s story in the bedtime tales line. (that line are stories I told my daughter and she asked me to write them and publish…)
That story will be Bedtime tales: The princess lost
I have trouble titling my poetry as well, so often in my poetry volumes I list them only by the first line. What about you? Is it hard to title your stories or poems? And what is your inspirations?
YA Faerie Story!
my sister’s doing a Young Adult story!
Anxiety
If you could,
Please tell me,
what exactly is
Normalcy?
Every thing i do
Just to try and fit in.
And still it feels i will
Never win.
Chaos surrounding
weirdness abounding.
Too strange to be
Like the world around me.
Must fight to adhere
Show no signs
Of queer.
Bury the shame,
Act just the same,
Else you won’t be
Allowed near.
vibrations
A story whispered
Told again.
Heard by those
Not meant to say,
Growing monstrous,
Expansion uncontrollable.
Truth or fiction,
Rumbling through society
Becoming legend,
Becoming real.
Difference twixt legend
and fantasy shone
n a harsh and
an all too revealing light.
Vocal
It’s your voice i hear,
When my doubt is high.
My hesitation stems
From you not hearing
Each echoing cry.
I show you my art,
My blood, sweat, and tears.
In hopes of pride swelling high,
all you can do is huff and sigh.
Tis but doodles you claim,
I guess you really do not see
How deeply it is you are cutting me.
I show you my words, written with care,
Shared so intimately.
Only to feel disappointed again.
No pride in me,
No surety.
All i hear dripping from
Those lips i love,
Is how naught i do
Is ever good enough.
In celebration of World Poetry Day
I have decided to share a poem from each of my volumes of poetry, including my w.i.p.
from A pocketful of poetry : Don’t blame me
from creative Juices : Creative Juices
From Sacks of Wit : Vibrations
From Word Play : Vocal
And lastly from my Wip….
Life Drops : Anxiety
Go find a wonderful poet and enjoy! Here is some of my favorite Poems and Poets.
There are many more, but these are some of my most favorite.
Creative Juices
Dripping loosely
the juices flowing,
the muses kiss sending
random ideas to a
creative brain.
Stories & Poems,
Lyrics and verse.
Flowing free the words
both dark and light.
Wringing out the heart,
pouring loose the soul,
putting pen to paper
trying to fill that hole.
Nothing blocking the drain,
naught to hide the pain.
Beauty and joy,
hope and sadness,
Intermingling loosely
as ink wets the page.
Don’t Blame Me
You see the darkness
That has seeped into my soul,
And fear the same that
Resides within you.
Do not hold me to blame
For seeing what you
Dare not.
Explore yourself,
And see what lies within.
Embrace it all
And fear it not,
For no part of who you are
Is meant to frighten.
I speak what lies
Within the human soul,
Within the human heart.
Those words are torn from
Experience that was hardest won.
Do not hold me to blame
For seeing what you
Dare not.
When you walk along
The path that I was forced to crawl,
And hold your head to the sky,
When I could barely see into another’s eyes.
Do not think to judge that escape
That the truth has wrought.
For in this life the truth
Is the only tool that I was allowed.
Pattimouse 