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.
Do You have a copy, Yet?
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.
I posted the poem for Ars Poetica earlier today. This is the answer to the prompt for the day: Optimism.
Looking forward
Is just so hard,
Optimism is not
Something that
comes easily.
Choosing to think
In the positive
Means using a
Light towards
the possibilities
That shine out the darkness.
I don’t know if during April I will be doing the regular day blogs… I will have to see. There should be at least two posts daily for April like this one.
Okay I posted to the new site and it is not showing the blog there. Technical support is a wonderful friend but he is a very busy person right now. So I am hoping to get it fixed soon.
And no, before any one gets it in their head… this is not an April fools thing. I don’t do that because I don’t handle jokes well.
The urge to pull the pen
to bleed upon the page
is something that seems
to be unwilling to fade…
I thought poetry would be
a passing phase,
something that I would grow
out of as I would age.
Instead, I have found myself
drawn deeper in,
bleeding more verse
than I wanted to in the end.
Pattimouse 