
Tears of ink
In poetry form,
Cried until the poet
No longer has tears left
With which to write.
Then what should the poet do?
Pluck out the heart and
Serve it dry?

Tears of ink
In poetry form,
Cried until the poet
No longer has tears left
With which to write.
Then what should the poet do?
Pluck out the heart and
Serve it dry?

Writing poetry is
Just another art
Pick up the pen
And bleed the
Colors of your heart.
Your soul will be
Painted in your verse,
Clear and consise
In flowing words.

Friendship
By Patricia Harris
I cannot explain how lucky
I feel to have you as my friend.
Sometimes, when the world is closing in
You seem to be able to keep it
From squishing me into my own mind.
You cannot seem to see
The darkness that I feel
Except for when you are
Around to light up my life.
Though luck is a empheral thing,
I am so very grateful for the luck
That to my life you have brung.

Tell it True
By Patricia Harris
Without a reason
For the world to
Cover and hide,
I have found it
So much better
To just always
Tell it true.
Lying has no real
Use in the grand scheme,
Telling the truth
Means that you
Need never remember
What was said.

In putting the pen
To the paper
I may be committing
The darkest of sins,
For bleeding poetry
Is acknowledging
That the world
Yet can be used
To hurt the soul again.
It is not about the words,
The rhythm, or the verse,
It is merely about the truth
That only poetry can be
Made to let loose.

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.

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.