Give me the pen
My brain is alight,
It is time for me
to write poetry tonight.
Perhaps I should pause
for the verse speaks
volumes and more,
but I think it solves
the internal war.
Ars Poetica November 27
Tag: poetry is not dead
Pad challenge Day 4
https://www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/2024-november-pad-chapbook-challenge-day-4
(in case of visual issues the poem reads)
courage is not just
the rushing in recklessly,
occasionally courage is
knowing that I have
lost my nerve
and then stepping
forward anyway.
I will make sure
I am always taking
the forward step,
Even though I don’t know
I will always have the nerve
to back up my move.
Pad challenge Day 3
Pad challenge Day 2
Ars poetica November 2
As the ink dries I see
the definition of who I am
in the poetry.
Though I have written
many a line and verse,
I have not found anything
like poetry that can hurt.
P.A.D Day One
Ars Poetica Returns
How strange it feels
to pick up the pen,
with the intent to write.
As if I could peel away my skin
and let poetry see the light.
Exposure of the soul
in a way that few would
understand,
leaving my pen sitting limp
suddenly in my once so eager hands.
I feel like it should not stop me
the idea that I might be misunderstood,
instead I will let flower the words
and see if I can find the art within.
Monday Poetry
Samhain
By
Patricia Harris
Rolling pumpkins
glowing eyes,
decaying leaves,
admist costumery…
candy sacks in tiny hands
haunting the streets
until the nights end.
The veil is thinned
on this night of revelry,
It brings the ancestors
to weave the joy into
all that might be .
Monday Poetry
I turned the page
By
Patricia Harris
As I expected the world
To be a story worth reading,
When I found that I was
Not enjoying the day…
I turned the page.
The story is going to be
One that I chose to write,
And if I am ready to with
nothing to stop me,
I turned the page.
Monday Poetry
Trading with the fae
By
Patricia Harris
They told me
They could take my pain
And steal it away.
Trading with the fae
Is worse than
Dealing with the devil
Any day.
The promises made
Are sweeter than sugar,
And the result is naught
But disappointment.
Pattimouse 