Minimum
By Patricia Harris
When is the minimum done,
Not enough to be acknowledged,
Not too much to be a overachievement,
Just a small start to what will be.
And somehow it is all the world
expects of me?
That feels so wrong,
Like I am just skating along.
If I cannot exceed
Even my own expectations
Then what is the reason
Why I should even begin?
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.
Each verse is bled
Straight from heart
To page…
The poem is
Emotional waves
Solidified.
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.
Though lifting the pen
To bleed on the page
Seems like a gift,
A talent given,
I would argue that
There are days
When writing poetry
Feels like madness leaking
Outward from my head.
Rhythm and rhyme
Pulsing in time
To how broken
My heart is.
The urge to pull the pen
to bleed upon the page
is something that seems
to be unwilling to fade…
I thought poetry would be
a passing phase,
something that I would grow
out of as I would age.
Instead, I have found myself
drawn deeper in,
bleeding more verse
than I wanted to in the end.
Since it’s world poetry day… here’s 2 more of my own.
Pattimouse 