The Power of Eating Disorders
I want to get close
I am afraid.
Afraid of what you might see.
Everything that makes me who I am.
The truth of my own reality.
The reality that I am scared.
Scared of not being perfect.
Scared of looking stupid.
Scared of being in the way.
Scared of getting comfortable.
Getting comfortable means stability,
Stability means forever.
I dread forever.
So, I am ready,
to move on,
to continue my journey,
To continue my life....
I AM READY!
Mary Pat uses her gift of poetry in hopes to help others find their own special gifts. http://www.reflectingrace.com
Take some time to stop and look at nature. Pick up a rock or two and think about where it might have started out and what it might have gone through to end up where you found it.
Review Of Stephen B. Wileys First Book Of Poetry: HERO ISLAND
Poet Stephen B. Wiley's first book of poetry, Hero Island, reflects tender snapshots and reminiscent overviews of various stages of his life as a youngster working on a farm in New Jersey, summer vacations spent with his family in Northern Vermont, and his positive stance on life.
Its What She Didnt Say
When I hear your voice inside my head it makes me think of you every single day as I fight back tears of sadness and wonder if you're okay
As I picked up some of the polished gemstones in the rock store I began to think about what the stones looked like before they were polished. The store had several rocks on display showing the before and after and I realized that unless you knew what you were looking for, you could easily pass by a valuable gemstone. I also thought about how many times we pass by someone because they look "ordinary" and what we might be missing because we don't get to know their "inner person". Thus this poem.
Do not be afraid to shine. This world needs what you have to give. Open up the areas of your being; expose them to yourself - to others. You are valuable. You are unique. You have much to give. Do not be afraid to give it.
Memoirs of a Wastelands Rim [a Poem: now in Spanish and English]
Memoirs of a Wasteland's Rim
Kafka lands resurrected in Crewe deposited by a silvery alien craft, And whilst he is wondering what to do He is asked to show his pass Or pay an instant one off fine At a cash dispenser of his choice And they are checking all the time On his irises face and voice.
In Poetry: Meaning of Words [And ...Rocket-belt]
In Poetry: Meaning of Words
You cannot make someone love you. All you can do is be someone who can be loved. The rest is up to them.
Poetry ?Reborn? Emerges In Thriller Mystery Novel
Since Mohamed Ali?then Cassius Clay?announced that he had written "The world's shortest poem," I have known that I would be a poet. "ME? WHEE!" His triumphant proclamation evoking shivers within my troubled teenaged identity, for I reasoned in rhyme.
Four Poems: Grendels Nature...the Racetrack...Counting days...[Now in English and Spanish]
To My Friend, With Love
All is still; all quiet; The world seems to be at peace. My soul is singing its rhythmic melody And I'm led like in a trance to write its tunes. The lyrics are for you. The essence of friendship.
Two Poems, with Figurative Language
Says Mr. Dennis Siluk, when asked to review his poetry somewhat, for he hesitates all the time when I ask him to so; I can tell you. Anyhow, he said to me (responding more on poem #728, "Derivative Echoes"): "Figurative language, meaning words used to refer to something that you don't really mean, is used here to make noises, as are metaphors sometimes. Probably the reason I used figurative language imagery here was to tie the ideas and feelings my poem [s] expresses [ness] to the physical world in which I want it to exist." He lost me somewhere along the line, but it sounded good when I read the poems. Rosa Penaloza.
Blind Designs [a Poem] and a Note by Rosa on The Other Door
Tsunami -a Poem Dedicated To Help Aid and Awareness and Encourage Future Harmony. Make Peace Not War
Footprints to Mantaro Valley (a poem in Spanish and English)
Footprints to Mantaro Valley (English version)
How wonderfully sweet to be a dweller dwelling on the road of goodbye. Bittersweet tears fall as I think of all the places I'll never see, all the faces I'll never know, all the joys I'll never share, as I head for the unknown. I have lived life as best I could, met challenges head on, drawing strength from an unseen source. You cannot come with me on this journey you can only stand and watch, sometimes the more difficult task. I know what I must do and I will give myself a voice drawn from the inward depths of my being. For Ken June 1, 2003 copyright Fran Watson
Two Poems: Boyhood, and Old Age [with a note on style]
Article on Poetry and Two Poems
Writing Poetry for Tomorrow
|home | site map|