Today I complained. I spoke to a friend wishing happy New Years yada yada, and then I complained. Just the usual midlife crisis complaints as one does. And at some point thereafter my friend responded with some unexpected good life news, and I was happy for my friend, and feeling embarrassed about having complained. Very embarrassed. How unattractive and unappealing it must have seemed. It is so easy to allow the words to tumble out. But from now I will try my very, very best to keep them locked away forever. Except for in poetry. Always poetry. Poetry for therapy.
Tag therapy
I Am
I’m a dreamer
And a writer
I’m a lover
And a mother
I’m a loner
And a joker
I’m a worker
And creator
But above all these
I am
Annie’s Song
There is something about music that is so comforting, this is one of my favorites.
Boiling Point
The feelings simmer as
Words begin to bubble
Mixing as they begin
To boil, the tension rises
Heat gets hotter
Rushing quicker, faster
Pressure building –
Boiling point
Reaching for the Sky
I feel the fear and acknowledge it
For it is felt within my mind and heart
Days will come, and time will pass
I will be led to where my soul
Would lead me to, and I know
That all will be well, closing my
Eyes, I reach for the sky
Stolen Words
My anxiety has risen
Taking with it the words
That so freely flowed
A Poem
A dark, heavy blanket lies over my being
I don’t want to eat, or drink, or laugh, or sleep
I don’t want to dream for I know
The morning will rise and I will be burdened with
A shadow
Following me
Watching
Spying
Lurking
Preying
I pray that the night will not end
I pray
That my dreams will grant me peace
For the torment of the day coupled with the torment of the night is too much for my soul to bear
I remember my past
And dark days
Interspersed with nights so cruel
I try to escape the waves threatening to break over me
But crippled with fear
I cannot move
Poems and Petals 