The Past
by Patricia Harris
the past is gone
forgotten,
repeating.
it leaves so many
feeling defeated.
it is not even happening
in a different way,
the past is gone...
so we will have to
live it all over again.
Monday Poetry
Tag: Women Poets
Book Review
I have to admit I love Rachel Wiley’s Poetry. It feels like she gets where I have been. This was an impulse buy for me, as I rarely buy the paperback versions. I enjoy paperbacks but I don’t often read them. I find it easier to curl up with my phone and enjoy what I want to read. So for me Paperbacks are a luxury item. This one lives up to the hype. The poems tug at the heart, and are well written. The book is lovely. Not the largest volume, but it feels just right. I bought it on the Zon but it is available on B&N, Google and a few of the usual suspects.
Wednesday Whispers
Hindsight
by Serena Mossgraves
The way hindsight blinds,
kindness hidden by fear,
and friendship torn apart
by the illusion of what
the mind perceives.
Perhaps hindsight is twenty twenty,
but with no light to illuminate
seeing through the dark
can be an impossible thing.
Monday Poetry
Identity
by Patricia Harris
Who am I, Really?
Hiding behind labels,
Lost in pretending
I understand who
I am supposed to be.
There was a time
When I was sure
Of who I wanted to be,
No labels, no questions,
just me and who I wanted to be...
Age has changed me
adding fear, adding wear and tear...
adding the questions
and the lost identity
that I find the need to chase.
Wednesday Whispers
Corset
by Serena Mossgraves
strangling
I struggle to breathe,
the tightness nearly
breaking me...
pull the strings,
tighter still,
for vanity demands
the corset drawn
to bone tight.
Wednesday Whispers
Murder
by Serena Mossgraves
A murder takes flight
on wings of shadow
against a field of
the purest white
towards an azure sky.
I find myself wanting
to join them,
spreading wings and
taking flight.
The extreme beauty
in the difference
between the
shadow and the light,
fills the world
with wistful imagination.
Monday 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 Whispers
One Candle
by Serena Mossgraves
is it too much
to light a single candle,
to illuminate the world
one small light at a time?
One Candle to fight the darkness,
one Candle to push the dreary away.
I am not trying to rid the world
of all the darkness,
That is too much for me to try,
I just want to push some light
into the world so that I might see.
One Candle is enough for me.
Ars Poetica November 30
Time to pause,
As all good poetry is
but a practice of
Metered thought
and the rhythm of
how practical verse can be.
So, with genteel caution
thrown to the wind…
write bad poetry…
then pause to write
good poetry once again.
Ars Poetica November 29
Full of pomp,
circumstance,
and prayers,
It is time to turn
the ink from tears
to the poetry
it was meant to be.
Pick up the pen,
put it to the page…
and let the verse
expose the differing
emotions that hold you
as a slave.
Pattimouse 