Mom's not here come Sunday,
been gone eleven years,
Dad's on his way to her,
perhaps one more Father's day,
perhaps not.
Poetry pours
out of my soul,
like a sieve,
fingers calloused
from the black keys
that open my mind.
but empty my heart.
We tend to feel
more when we write,
because we write what we feel,
an outlet for pain, love, joy,
others carry it on their backs
like pilgrims progress,
across life's treacherous paths.
But what a glorious release,
to bend emotion into curves,
that comfort like a woman's smile,
strangely lacking in my life,
right now.
A contest entry
- Truth.. Quote Prompt.. by Angelflower.
713 points, ended May 25, 19 entries
Gold trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
-
awww. this was just so beautiful!!!
You have such a wonderful talent..
I loved this, you have such a unique way of writing, yet you created such a vivid image...
This had honesty and beauty that just flowed onto this page, and straight into the readers heart..
Thank you very much for sharing...
Best of luck..
Angel
-
First and foremost, let me say that I love this. You have a unique talent and ability to use your words that is truly fascinating. The emotions flowing across the page here are so honest, open and deep. Thank you for sharing and best wishes to you in all of your endeavors. Keep that pen handy and ever ready for use dear poet.
♥ Touchof1der -
A very honest write. "We tend to feel
more when we write,
because we write what we feel,
an outlet for pain, love, joy,
others carry it on their backs
like pilgrims progress,
across life's treacherous paths" This stanza hits home for me in that writing has been so healing for me. I am drawn to the written word and it has taken the load off my back for many years now. Great write! Blessings, Patty
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