Tag: poems by Patricia harris

Friday Prompts – Zombie

Ok. Here’s the list for October. Send me a link to your post, comment below or email to patti.mouse@gmail.com. The prompt can be answered however you see fit as long as it is individual work- yours. So art, poetry, short story, photos, or whatever you can come up with.Today lets explore Zombies! Here is some drawings of a zombie I did!

And a poem from Pocketful of Poetry

Zombie

Also did you know that Serena has a Zombie Novel out? Rust, Gore, and the Junkyard Zombie

So, now let’s see what you can do with it!

Monday Poetry

Monday Poetry

Quicksilver poetry

Who will write the obituary

For the lost soul,

The one that hid from the world

Any truth of identity?

Too many times when

Hands stretched forth,

They were smacked away

Feelings pulled astray.

Lies, they called,

Sure that the truth denied.

So who writes the obituary,

When no one saw the truth

In what was said?

Monday Poetry

All of these were in Sacks of wit

Quicksilver poetry

©2019 Patricia Harris

Sleep elu,

Sitting in my bed

Still shaken from

The monsters that live

Inside my head.

Revisiting memories

Is far away from

The way that I need

To help me sleep.

Shaky in the dark,

I dare not turn on

The bright overhead light.

For though the fear

Blankets my skin,

I do not want

To awaken the ones

Who are still sleeping.

Poem response to prompt on Go Dog Go Cafe.

Monday poetry

Quicksilver poetry

In school I was asked to write,

In a journal wrapped with wire.

What is it that when you leave

Others to think of you

Do you aspire?

Now I was perhaps all of sixteen

And hardened by pain.

Atracked by my own mind,

Driven half insane.

The teacher was one

Who held my notion,

Inspiration flowed from her,

And put the pen to motion.

I think that I wrote that kind

Is the greatest thing anyone

Could possibly ever think of me.

Since that day,

Nearly thirty years

Have all but flown away.

Every now and then,

My mind is drawn back.

I find myself understanding

Something that then I lacked.

Though kind is a virtue,

One so many do lack,

If I am honest,

More matter of fact,

Then I would answer it different.

I think instead when I leave a room,

I would rather that people

Instead thought me true.

Quicksilver poetry

©2019 Patricia Harris

Someone said that war is Hell…

And for them it may be true,

For me, I think that I see

Hell so much differently.

Hell is being locked within,

Hearing your memories

Stuck on repeat again and again.

Hell is trying to reach out

For sanity, for comfort,

And realizing that those

That you love do not care

About your hurt.

Hell is mostly repetition,

The same pain and the same joys

With no end in sight.

Nothing to grow from,

No new light.

The devil ruling hell

Is a true beast,

He is your own mind

Stuck again in rewind.