Poetry

Poetry is my friend when all others have fled.

Poetry is my life in amongst all the endless strife.

Poetry is my day when the night begins to fade, and my night when the sun transforms itself to shade.

When I have nowhere to turn and my every step is blocked

When there are no more words to say but I cannot turn away

It is poetry that dries my tears and strokes my cheeks and holds me tight and comforts me.

It is poetry for me, the words and boundless grace.

Poetry. My friend my enemy my foe.

25 thoughts on “Poetry

  1. ‘It is poetry that dries my tears and strokes my cheeks and holds me tight and comforts me.’

    This is so beautiful and heart-warming โค

    Liked by 1 person

  2. This is beautiful. Poetry is acting as my catharsis and relief at this point in my life also; though it can sometimes bring alot of raw stuff to the forefront, it serves as a rock to me throughout my own struggle.

    I love what you do. Please keep on writing. x

    Liked by 1 person

  3. great poemโ€”really gives the feel of poetry being a sort of comforting safety blanket! Weโ€™d love to feature this poem on our siteโ€”we feature other poets on Fridays. May we feature this, with a link to your site and a bio of your choice?

    Liked by 1 person

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