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Running, running

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Running, running to catch a star
She needs to go, go so far
away
from there and here
she is
Blindly leaping, crazed, and dazed
Idiots they are amazed
by her
They are running, running to catch a lie
stick a needle in your eye
promises broken, again she cries
screaming silently, can’t you hear
from there and here
she is
Running, running to catch a thief
A stolen life, eternal grief
lost
before being found
Her shooting star, was shot down
nearly lifeless to the ground
Running, running, to catch release
She needs to find that life can cease
to chase her
from there and here
She is
Blindly leaping, abused and bruised
lost and confused
seeking
only
peace

Imprisoned

Life of pain, Life of fear

Not insane, but oh so near

Imprisoned here, broken brain

Twisted mirror, shattered remains

Needing no one, they take, she gives

Being no one, she fakes, they live

The sun will rise, she will open her eyes

Like every day before

She stifles the tune her heart wants to hum

Looks to the sky, lets out a sigh

Ignores the chore

That breathing has become

Listen to me

Listen to me

Hear my words, feel my thoughts

Before you react

Can’t you see what you do to me

Silence my words, invalidate my thoughts

Because you

Are more important

Your needs matter

And I don’t

I am not what you say I am

I am starting to know me

Too bad you don’t or won’t

Losing hope

Because you don’t even know

How to listen

What to write (poem)

I used to write poems from my heart
Now I don’t know quite how to start
The words used to flow, no, pour out
Now even I have no clue what I’m talking about

The best way to begin is to jump right in
For penning bad poetry surely’s no sin
I’ll not be afraid to choose the wrong phrase
Or that my rhythm here or there strays

I’ll try to say what I want to say
Without extra words stuck in the way
I’m not simple minded but simply choose
Straight forward sentiments with no way to confuse

Next time inspiration comes to me
I’ll start writing immediately
Get those words out of my brain
express my love or joy, sadness or pain

Copyright rootstoblossom 2016

Poetry day was unexpectedly ok

When the counselor announced we had a guest coming in to lead our group in a poetry exercise I inwardly groaned and tried to contain my skepticism and eye rolling. Actually it was worse than that, I was prepared to endure an hour of terrible poetry torture like from Hitchhiker’s guide to the galaxy. I actually enjoy reading some poetry, and writing it more than reading it – sometimes, when the creative mood hits me and the words seem to flow. I didn’t think someone could guide a group of barely speaking women to write anything.

I was wrong.

She only gave us only about 12 minutes to formulate ideas and scribble some thoughts on paper, and when we went around the room, everyone shared a unique and interesting bit of imagery, style and depth. Like it was easier to get our thoughts on paper in this form, it was fascinating really. Because our poems weren’t about us personally, or didn’t have to be, but they were a little actually of course. I wish I remembered some of the lovely words but it probably wouldn’t be right to share them here anyway. Instead I can only share that it was a beautiful moment and I’m so happy that we were all vulnerable to be there together to do it. I don’t any of us will win awards or get published, but that wasn’t the point at all.

At first I didn’t want to share mine, wanting to fix it first, finish it, polish it. But whatever, I could see this was about sharing ideas while they were still hot and raw – not perfect. so I shared. And it wasn’t even scary, because I love to perform. I’m choosing not to share it here, because it does not need to be performed again, it lived in that special moment of the group and will remain there because it will take too long to explain the meanings and my point is not a  poetry lesson here today.

my point is that sometimes I am wrong.

And sometimes imperfection is a powerful tool to make us feel connected and vulnerable.

And I need to try to stop pre- hating everything. hmmm. My inner critic judges not only me but so all of my activities so harshly – even before they begin, before they have a chance. No wonder I never have any fun.

I have an open mind for ideas and theories and learning. I need to figure out how to open my mind for new opportunities for myself that might be ok. See start small, I don’t expect awesome here, maybe just ok is enough for now.