No two poems are the same
Even if written by the same hand.
Because the poet sees
The day differently
With eyes shaded by the
March of time.
So instead of worrying about
Why the poetry is different,
Perhaps the best thing to do
Is enjoy each poem
Individually.
My Best
By Patricia Harris
As I ramble,
I gathered praise
But all I could hear
Was the need to improve,
Because I thought all that they saw
Was the flair in my eyes.
So I lifted my collar
And set myself up
I was going to do more
Until I was not able to bear it.
Though I had already
Done my best.
When the poetry
Doesn’t flow
What is the poet
Supposed to know?
For if your whole world
Is built on verse
Then what could be
Any worde
Than the lack of words?
When Hope Ends
By Patricia Harris
The beginning of all things
Is when we decide that hope ends.
Because Hope is the thing
That keeps alive the what ifs.
Realism means that you look
at what life offers
and don’t look away
when hope ends and the world
shows you the darkness
in sway.
The end is nigh
Or so they say,
Not a chance
That it is just a
Matter of perspective.
What you consider
To be the end,
Might be a bit
Of a beginning
For the next person.
Poetry is a long forgotten art
Often seen as stagnant
Except the rare ones
That understand why
Reading poetry has
Years of dreams written in short verse.
When the wind calls you home,
I hope you become poetry.
When you have nothing left to say,
I hope you write poetry.
When all in you has been turned
Into the noise of the world,
I hope you find poetry to quiet it again.
And child,
When you have naught else
That you can depend upon,
I hope you have poetry.
Pick up the pen,
Bleed the verse.
Try to find the best
Words again.
Perhaps repeat
The actions to find
The answer life has to give,
But each poem is different.
What is poetry for?
Poetry is to heal the broken,
Poetry is to reach the disturbed…
Poetry is to give wings
To those who are falling
Into the pits of despair.
What else is poetry for?
Poetry is to comfort those
Who are desperate
In need of a dream
In written form.
Poetry is to let
Those who have
Suffered know that
They are not alone
In this world.
Deja Vu
By Patricia Harris
It’s funny that I feel
Like I have been here before
Standing here watching
My life walking out the door.
It’s funny that I feel
Like I said that before,
Goodbye I love you more
Than you can even know…
Is my life stuck on repeat?
An unintentional loop,
Where I stand at the edge
Wondering
If I have anything left to lose?
Pattimouse 