Sorry, lazy brain today....

I’ve been working this blog for a few months now and, I have to say, it’s the most therapeutic thing I’ve ever done. More so, I think, than just run of the mill journaling that no one but me reads.

I’ve always been one to write; however, I would never have referred to myself as a writer. My first stumbling attempts at putting pen to paper came in the 9^th grade. I wanted to write poetry. Sadly, I’m not that good at it. I don’t have the patience to create the flow required for it to be poetry or to pull out my arsenal of rhyming words (you know, my thesaurus? ... and I’m such a word geek that I have three of them…)

But, just for kicks and giggles – and honestly because my brain is pretty much a blank today – I’m gonna pull out a few of my older attempts at prose and poetry…

Funny thing about me and poetry though, on the rare occasions that something does come to me, I manage to scribble it out in five minutes or less….and I generally love it...

I see the sunrise
Sunshine like nimble fingers
picking its way through the billowed magic of the clouds.

Fragments of light
Brightness in colors
only seen on God's time.

It speaks to you
not boastful, but pure
shouting His presence in a way that assures you
great things will come today.

Not poetry, but prose:

It seems to me that those who write, whether it is poetry, journaling, or some other kind of literature, must be those who are more emotional; like something happens on a much greater scale when they feel. Finally, for the fear of bursting, they must express themselves by means of the only outlet that can be altogether effective, safe, and responsible. We do not write because we are creative -- It is because without this outlet we would surely explode; flinging our bottled up emotions like daggers to injure those we love. They do, after all, remain closest to us. I am thankful, as are they, that I can find peace in verbiage.

Twisted

 

You're twisted

Words and actions a heavy contradiction of each other
Speaking slowly to avoid saying the wrong thing
or, perhaps you require time to sort through the lies and find the truths?

A difficult decision for me
to be the one to pick up the pieces
when your world crumbles around you.
Wondering
whether it be me or you who is the bigger fool
in this web you weave of deceit?

You're twisted
using others to define you
you give them the power
allow them to determine your happiness
Do you even know who you are?

Above all it is my freedom I cherish most
The freedom to breathe in the sweet scent of independence
mingled with strength
To know that without you
without anyone
I am still me
still powerful
still amazing

You are twisted
unable to fly
I soar
confident in who I am and who I will be when you're gone

And
you will be gone
Either you will find that thing
the one always just out of reach
or I will tire of helping you seek

In the meantime
I will rest easy
Knowing I've worked to maintain my integrity
I've followed my heart
can hold my head high
and will never have to lie

You are twisted
I fly