Gather ’round peeps and get your copy of my beautiful poetry read by the talented Hillary Hawkins. She’s done work for Nickelodeon and other voice over work. To get your copy of
Heart Speak: The Complete Works of Inside the Heart of My Soul and Days to Come
Looking through the looking glass
I saw my life
I saw my past
Heartbreak
Sorrow
Blinding fear
All those times I tried to hold you near
To my heart
What a bad start
To a road that disappeared
From sight
Looking through the looking glass
I saw my life
My here
My now
Triumph
Stronger
Made from steel
Everything just seems unreal
Things I’ve done
I never thought possible
Look at me I’ve become unstoppable
Looking through the looking glass
I saw my life
The future I wish to have
It’s soon to be within my grasp
Love
Success
My dreams come true
Only thing I see when I close my eyes at night
Is you
By my side
Full of pride
For me
Looking through the looking glass
I saw my life
It wasn’t so bad
My soul screams out in sadness My heart screams out in pain A head that should know better A heart that dares to hope again A feeling that speaks of yearning Of wanting to love again A heart that has been shattered Well beyond repair A dream of things to far from reach Of sorrows broken free On wings of eagles soaring high To heal what some can’t see A smile no longer hides the sorrow When laughter fades from both my eyes The soothing sounds of music no longer sing to me My mind can only touch darkness Happiness seems to far to reach A body almost too battered To be what it was meant to be
What makes a good poem? Does it need to rhyme? Should it mean something to you? These are the questions I ask myself every time I write a poem. Well those are the questions I used to ask myself anytime I wrote a poem. Then I stopped caring if it rhymed or made sense to anyone that wasn’t me. I stopped worrying about what made a poem good and just wrote what was in my heart at the time. Why I can write a poem better with a battered heart than when I’m content in my feelings? That I may never have the answer to. If I just wanted to sit and write a poem it’s hard and I find I have nothing to say but in that moment when you feel like your world is crashing down all around you the words come from some place deep within your soul that you didn’t even know existed until this moment. The moment when your heart was open, raw, exposed in such a way that you didn’t want anyone to see. But instead of shielding your heart away you show it along with your soul to anyone would would listen in words. Not actions but words. Words are powerful alone but together they can be unstoppable. Words have the power to turn a bad day good and a good day bad. Writing the words of my heart places a balm to my soul. It’s uplifting and helps ease what was broken. It helps cleanse me of the emotion by putting it on paper. If written correctly if can cause the emotion again when read later. It will bring up the memory of those words and make you feel again what you felt when you wrote it. It this a good thing? Sometimes it is because if I can’t feel the same emotion I was feeling when I originally wrote it then I didn’t capture it correctly. Why am I rambling on about a bunch of nonsense? Well it’s because I can’t write. I’ve been trying the last two days. I’ve got nothing. Tried to finish a poem that’s pretty much almost finished and I’m at a loss for the words. I remember why I was writing it but don’t know how to close it. It’s quite annoying. I did manage to write a bit on the follow up to my first novel but it’s not the same as poetry. I wanted to get back into it. It was my first love when I started writing after journaling. Now it’s like I can’t do it unless I feel like my heart is being ripped out of my chest. I want to do it when I’m happy and not just when I’m sad. They say “practice makes perfect”, but how am I supposed to practice writing when it’s so emotionally based for me? Writing without the emotion doesn’t seem real to me. It just seems like I’m trying to make everything rhyme, because good poetry doesn’t necessarily have to rhyme. It just has to have emotion. Atleast that’s my opinion anyway.
The feeling you get when some days are better than others… Well that’s how I would describe my writing. Some days I won’t write anything and others if I don’t write anything I feel like I could explode with all the things I need to say. This is what was going on when I wrote this poem. It was all in my feelings and instead of sitting in the corner crying and feeling sorry for myself, why not just write the words on paper. Sometimes that makes the emotions seem to real and like that day really happened and now you can’t block it out because you’ve put words to memory. Now when you look at this thing that you have written you will remember why you wrote it in the first place. I am a writer. It’s what I do. I write. It’s the only time where I can completely say what it is I’m trying to say without wondering if I explained it well enough. I’m not a fan of too much emotion but there’s so much emotion in my writing. Maybe the problem is I don’t show enough emotion when I’m not writing. It’s just easier to express emotion when I’m writing versus day-to-day life. Anyway here is a poem I wrote last night.
Cold and lonely
The day my heart beat stilled
Even the kindest words cut deep
The day my heart beat stilled
Images of your perfect face
The day my heart beat stilled
Never fail to bring tears to my eyes
The day my heart beat stilled
I can still here your voice calling out to me
The day my heart beat stilled
About what a great girl I am
The day my heart beat stilled
And how you don’t want to be tied down
The day my heart beat stilled
But what I heard where the things you didn’t say
The day my heart beat stilled
They lies you forgot you told me
The day my heart beat stilled
But every word I will always remember
They day my heart beat stilled
But in the end I’m stronger
Because my heart beats still
Posted this a couple weeks back. Finally found the words to finish it. My poetry always seems to take on a tortured theme. Oh well.
I’m standing in this open place
Wishing you would share a space with me
Close as can be
But yet so far away from me
I just want to hold your hand
But all you did was pull away from me
I reach out my hand to touch your face
But you slap my hand away
I go to stand right next to you
But you quickly walk away
What did I do to make you act this way
Was it maybe something I said or did
Doing my best to ease the pain
That starts to spread inside me
My heart begins to slow its beat
From the mental and physical ways you’ve pushed me aside
My soul tries to reach out to yours
With no answer in return
And all I hear around me
Are the echoes of my lonely heart
A friend of mine Jessica is making these lovely wood plaques. She makes them in all shapes and sizes with just about anything you can think of. This is the one she did for me of my poem “Dance The Dance”. I am in love with this beautiful rendition of art work. My poem seems so much more amazing than it really is. If you want to see more of her work or to request a piece done for yourself her Facebook page link is https://www.facebook.com/pages/Rumph-Rustic-Designs/619291941425515. Go over and like her page and check out her other works.
Well I still don’t have a cover for my book. Don’t really know where to start to get one either. Guess I’ll have to keep looking. Also working on more poetry and book 2 in Dark Indiscretions serious. Also started another work in progress but have no idea where it’s going. Only written one paragraph so far. Taking three classes and working full time doesn’t leave a lot of creative room in my busy schedule. Will have to take a bit of time this weekend to write a bit.
New poem I’m working on. It’s not finished. It’s missing something not quite sure what yet. Might change some lines around and I def want to add more but here it is so far.
Ode To Sorrow
My soul screams out in sadness
My heart screams out in pain
A head that should know better
A heart that dares to hope again
A feeling that speaks of yearning
Of wanting to love again
A heart that has been shattered
Well beyond repair
A dream of things to far from reach
Of sorrow broken free
On wings of eagles soaring high
To heal what some can’t see
A smile no longer hides the sorrow
When laughter fades from both my eyes
Saw a pair of blue eyes today And in them part of my future His lips so soft upon my own His tongue a part of my body Molded to him like he is my very own Two parts of one whole Looking upon his face while on my knees Laid out for me to see everything Touching Tasting Smelling Committing everything to memory Longing for every touch and word Face lit up with wonder How to make this man my own This is one of the many things I wonder Fire blazing from every place you touch and kiss me He guides his head between my legs Burying himself above me Time stops for what seems like forever And then he begins to move Dancing the dance of lovers’ tunes While I enjoy the music only we can hear