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The Poet Speaks

I’ve been pondering for a while on whether to post some of my poetry here.  I finally decided…. why not?

Some is old, some is more recent. 

Foolish
To wait for a touch is foolish
To expect the love
Unwise.
Yet I die for a while
If you don’t smile
And I love you more and more.
To push the progress is
Not right.
To wait for the call
Insane
Yet when your eyes
Look deep into mine
I melt
And fall into your arms again.
 
Straight Down from the Beginning
I see anxiety
Wanton fear
Asking me for the
Next answer
The way
Out is
Understandable
To me now;
Should I
Use
It to
Climb the wall
Inside my head
Dropping to a new level
Excited to be
Out
Running from
Instant
Numbing
Succumbing
Anxiety
Now
I see
The way to say
Yes.
 
Liar’s Song
The frustration and the anger,
All piled up within
The hurting and the waiting
Still crying, let me in.
Lost inside the life I built
I falter and I fold
Afraid to move,
Afraid to stand
Left standing in the cold
I’ve done this dance
I’ve sung the song
I’ve written every line
But the screams go on
Within my head
I’m fine, I’mfine, I’M FINE.
Liar.
 
To the One that Got Away
Lying in the darkness
And thinking of your face
The first time I said goodbye
That memory I can’t erase
My thoughts are fog
That tangled mess
I hurt us both back then
I confess
I ran in fear
I ran for years
But always looking back
I wish like hell
I could go there through time
But I never caught the knack
I’ve tried so hard to make it right
To the one that got away
And now I just look crazy
But then again, I was always
A little insane,
I’m kinda funny that way.
 

I’ve always thought that Poetry is where the music that lives inside our souls resides.

Sometimes it’s happy, and bounces along like a balloon, joyful and light.

Sometimes, it’s sad, and creeps along through the shadows, weighing heavily on all that have to live through it.

And sometimes, it’s angry, sharp and full of pointy bits… scraping open old wounds, exposing rawness of emotion to the light and air.

But no matter what, it’s always about emotion.  The emotion of the poet at the time of creation.  And so, it’s an honest, deep-from-within expression, even when it’s not well written.  It’s still, at least, a true, bone-deep gaze into the heart of the writer.

If you’d like to read more of my own personal poetry, I keep it on the Brea’s Spirit blog, more often than not – which you can find in my “Homepages” on the blogroll.

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8 thoughts on “The Poet Speaks

    • LOL, I argued with myself about posting that one, thought maybe it needed a post of its own. I knew I’d hear from you on this one, though!

      • That is my all-time FAVORITE poem (not just of yours either – and not just because I was there). It is truly beautiful and captured that wild-crazy-summer innocence. It was the best of times! = ) BTW…can’t wait to see you!!!

    • LOL, more like “Jill of all trades, master of none…” I like to experiment with a lot of different things, see if they fit and if I like them. I don’t take direction well, so art and writing is the perfect direction to go, because it’s totally subjective. Someone says they don’t get it, or don’t like it? I just tell them, well “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, too bad yours are shut.” 😉

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