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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Bitch with me
By Patricia Harris
The urge to just complain,
Not that you want to
Really anything change,
Just venting steam to release
And start again.
This is in the nature of the game,
Instead of fixing the problem
Whine and complain,
To feel better again.
My Faults
By Patricia Harris
In my head
my faults are mountain sized,
built from the moments I have
so often tried…
and seen the inability
to make it work…
so the blame was in me?
because where else could it be?
instead of seeing the struggle
I have endured and the learning curve
that me was set before,
I assumed that I was flawed.
Overcome the world laid at my feet,
every issue did I defeat, just not in perfect grace,
so I listed my own flaws in litany
because I saw the struggle as my disgrace.
Bone Tired
By Patricia Harris
When does sleep
Finally catch up
With the tired
A lifetime long?
It’s not that I am complaining,
For life is full, and I am aware,
But more than three hours
Would help feel like
I have been mauled by a bear.
Pattimouse 