Word Jazz

inspired by CabbagesandKings

By Patricia Harris ©2017

Word Jazz
Not structured
Poetic improv

Pieced together
Thoughts, emotions,
Smiles and tears.

Word song,
Spilled soul
To paper
Spilled mind
To sight.

Eclectic,
And smooth.
Energetic,
Makes the heart move.

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Tribe

Just when I felt my most alone,

Lost from my soul, unknown,

That is when discovery came.

Teaching me,

Learning how to lean in,

Learning to accept love

Growing, evolving.

Welcoming the arms

Of unconditional

Support wrapping

Self doubt,

Carrying the dream

Carrying the need

To be known.

Each one a star,

Shining brightly in

The darkness of the night

Of a soul lost and forlorn.

Stretching across the chasm

Of eternity.

Poetry, rules and rebellion

I have a confession…writing poetry with certain constraints has always made me antsy. I have felt like I was somehow not good enough to write following the rules. So, I have written copious amounts of free verse…avoiding the structure of any fotms.

Then, as I grew as a writer and a poet, I found myself saying I don’t write that way too often. Well why the Hell not? Am I a Poet? Or do I just pretend I am?

So, when presented with a form/structure poem idea, I start by looking up the rules. For me, this is my go to site.

Believe me, I feel like a high school student again. In high school I knew the rules and felt my style was better as free verse. I think that if anyone tried to tell me that I needed to follow rules with my poetry I even would blow it off with poetic license.

The rebel nature of free verse still appeals. I will likely never be the next Haiku or Sonnet genius. Poetry speaks from the heart, and mine is often chaotic and unstructured. The meaning remains though.

So, just out of curiousity, what is your favorite types of poetry? Why?

Rain

By Patricia Harris ©2017

Even perfect days
can end in rain,
Soft mists that barely cover
Or wrenching downpours
That wash away
The emotional bubble.

Dancing in the wet,
Playing with the moment
Much as a child unsupervised.
Pretending that all
Our troubles are forgot,
Yes, even a perfect day
Can end in rain.

Rain, though it symbolizes
Dreary, dark moments
Can bring a pause,
A simple time to let go,
To play as the clocks hands
Move across the tic tocking
Of adulthood.

Release,
Allowing joy to wash off
Stress, pain, tension,
And then to leave us
In a forgotten moment
In the lost minutes of
Childhoods hour.

Angel Tears

©Patricia Harris 2017

I shed my wings for you,
Tearing free each piece of
That which made me.
Ripping out blood and bone
To become that which
You have always known.

Making sure that I could
Never again take to the wind,
For to become the one
You imagined that I would be.

I shed my wings for you,
And then you turned away,
You said goodbye.

Life stories 

    How many times have you found yourself thinking about the past? I am guilty of doing it often.  We are all a collection of stories,  some that we do not tell.  The reason why we don’t varies some,  depending upon the story. Some we are ashamed of,  some we think are going to be boring to the world around us. 

         I am finding out that sometimes those stories are more interesting than we realize. I try to be open about my history and tell my stories,  but some of them do not really sit on the mind as something that I need to tell. Yet,  each of them are a part of who I am.  I am a unique individual who has seen some of the darkness that lives in the heart of man.  I am a survivor who has learned to make do with what I have. And I am a woman who has seen both good and bad,  and came through it ready to try to tell my stories. I don’t know if I will ever be able to write all of the stories of a life survived,  or even if I should.  Not all of my mistakes are ones that any one would learn from… Even me.  Still for now,  I will attempt to continue to dribble my story in small gushes to this blog,  and to my poetry.  Perhaps my journey will aid those who stumble across my words.