Monday Poetry

Poetry

Caustic

By

Patricia Harris

The words that drip from your tongue
burn deeply into the soul,
Caustic like the acid,
Perhaps I am lost in a fog
of the brain melted by what you had to say…

I stand here broken,
wondering if I have made
many the wrong choice,
Walking through the acid rain…
for someone who will never see
the damage inflicted.
For the one who will always
cause me pain.

Wednesday whisper

Poetry

Hell

By

Serena Mossgraves

I read somewhere
That Hell was a place
Of fire and suffering,
I think not.

Hell is familiar,
That place you go
over and over again.

Hell is repetition,
and unending.

Hell is the moment
where the pain feels
the most like home.

Perhaps there might
be suffering,
but in the moment
would you see it so?
Or would you merely accept
that this is all you have
ever really known?

Monday Poetry

Poetry

Singularity

By

Patricia Harris

Perhaps I am not the person
I thought I would be,
So like everyone else.

Perhaps I am but a
singularity,
a lost note
in a song sung
by the divine.

Monday Poetry

Poetry

He is not My friend

By

Patricia Harris

He said he was my buddy,
My brother, my bestie,
Anything to get me closer.
He wanted me to want more,
Wanted me hooked on
What he had in store.

He is not my friend,
He is the chills in the
Middle of the night,

He is not my friend,
He is the last minute
Need to fight.

He is not my friend,
He is my dealer.

Monday Poetry

Poetry

In wildflower fields

By

Patricia Harris

when you come traveling
through the fields of flowers
pick ones far from tame
and lose yourself…

For getting lost in
The fields of wildflower
Is a music to the mind
that allows you to leave
all of your stress and worry behind.

Monday Poetry

Poetry

Lost Notes

By

Patricia Harris

My voice used to sing
A tune of wonder and
The highest moments
Of love for life…

Somehow I have
Lost Notes in my song,
My beat is off and I
Fear that the song no longer
Hits the notes
I once was capable of.

What was decided

Though a couple of the volumes had a vote each this one received the most over all of the platforms. So I am as of Tuesday afternoon at 430pm only five poems away from finishing Human Shaped Verse. I have no doubt that I will have it done within the next few days and starting on Lost Notes. The others will get written eventually. They will go back into the rotation for the next volume as I get finished. I usually pick five that feel right and present them to everyone as choices when I get within ten poems of completion of a volume. It is slightly random in that respect.

Monday Poetry

Poetry

Behind the mirror

By

Patricia Harris

Could I be like Alice
Walking through the looking glass?
And if I did would it make my troubles
Bigger or would it make them small?

What is there that we cannot see
On the other side of the mirror
from me?

Though the idea calls to the
Adventurous part of my soul,
I remember the faery tales of old.
If you go uninvited to the places
Where they play,
A heavy price they may take.

Monday Poetry

Monday Poetry
Poetry

Kids say the Strangest Stuff

By Patricia Harris

Why do we grow out
Of saying the most fun
Things that can come to mind?

Hurry up and save the toothbrush,
Avoid the trip to the planet
Made of stench and stinky feet…
Be made of turtles if you need to.
Why did you stop talking to
The monsters in the closet anyway?

Kids understand the world,
The wonders that keep it alive…
So though they say some of
The strangest things,
I think the kids see more than
Anyone else does in a lifetime.

*Poet’s note. This is absolutely inspired by my friend Jenny’s Dante. She messaged me three things that he said and it reminded me of the moments when my kids were little…and I realized that kids have a magic that we tend to forget by the time adulthood comes.

Monday Poetry

Monday Poetry
Poetry

Building Walls

By Patricia Harris

Everyone is so busy building walls
that we forget the reasons why
we try to hide within.

Keeping your heart from feeling,
keeping it from breaking,
is safer than trying to live
don’t you know?

building walls in front of my dreams
stops the pain from ever entering,
it stops people from touching the tender places
that I can’t heal from the other hands
that left me broken.