Humanity
By Patricia Harris
Define for me
That which makes us human?
The bits that keep us from
Being defined as animals
Or monster…
Remind me,
On my dark days,
That all that is within me
Is still humanity…
Even if I wonder if I ever
Was human at all?
The End
By Patricia Harris
Is once the word is spoken
at the end of it’s life,
nothing further for it to know?
or is the verse just beginning
and the speech the start
of all it will know?
Either way I feel like
the word spoken in verse
will catch something more than
interest and ignite a new thirst.
In the middle of madness
Lay the verse,
Written down to try to explain
Something dark and perfect.
That the world can be seen
With eyes shaded by dark things,
Or overgrown with flowers
That bloom in nightshade.
All of this is just an expression
Of poetry and the truth from
What a heart can bleed.
Until dawn
By Patricia Harris
Staying awake for no reason
Until dawn approaches
Produces the same dreams
As if you were to crawl into
Bed as soon as the night falls.
Telling the self that life
Must fit in the schedule
Given by social settings
Only creates a guilt
Unnecessarily.
Words detached from the heart
Spelled into the pen,
Creating from the energy given
The poetry given to the world..
Perhaps I could do something more
With the energy than shaping it
Into the verse so fair,
But the perverse nature of my heart
Says that I must make the poetry.
In the world of verse
The possibilities are so very diverse.
Writing in a ruleset to meet the form,
Or taking the license to be
Whatever you want to be…
Poetry allows for all of these.
Probably the thing that scares away
Those who claim to hate
All that poetry has to say
Have just not found the poem
To affect them properly yet
In the right way.
* I do realize that I am posting it slightly early. I just got it written and decided that I didn’t want to take the chance of forgetting to post it.
Remind me
By Patricia Harris
I just don’t know how
to remix the words
that I wrote already
so perfectly.
Remind me that I have
a flaw or ten,
so I don’t see the writing
as perfection written.
* I am not actually sure if I do write perfectly…. but the prompt today was to remix one of our own poems. I hate remixes in general and I don’t want to do it to my own poetry. I have plans to do a revisiting poetry book but it is mostly going to be a discussion of my own poetry, not the remix.
I am Human
by Patricia Harris
The best idea of who I am
is found in the mirror,
flaws showing,
Dreams weaving into a form
resembling something divine.
I am human,
with all that it might mean.
I am human,
with the whole world laid
out in front of my feet.
Splash the ink
so carelessly,
give poetry freely.
for the world deserves
the best of verse,
with no thoughts
to the what ifs and such.
poetry is another art
meant to ease the disturbed,
and so I say it should be
written with abandon
to make the world better.
Soul
By Patricia Harris
Perhaps I am mistaken
In belief that a soul is not meant
to be trampled upon.
I think that too many are thinking
of the wrong spelling of the word.
The sole of our feet are for
walking upon, Nothing within
the soul of a man
is meant to be trod upon.
*sorry I am running late.
Pattimouse 