Poetry is all about perception.
It’s what we perceive, not what
It’s all in the rhythm.
The arrangement of the poetic
It’s about loosening those
syllables until they roll off our pens
in a dance of self.
We release our whimper and watch
it turn into a roar on paper
We write for preservation.
We write to empty the emptiness.
We write like we eat, to live
We spend our nights out on a limb so we can fall into the melody of our craft
Our souls writing on. Finding salvation in verse
when time is surrendered
to altars of grace –
I will smiling remember
of your face
the ease of permission
as shadows to fall –
allowing one winter
came to call
as futures rehearsed
o’er a lifetime or two –
only joy in returning
to the memory
. . .
i have written about you
but you’re vain enough
to think you’re my only subject.
i scratched our lives into
once, twice, a few times
tried to make sense of my hurt
the betrayal, the excuses and lies
yet you think each word is about you.
i stack my regrets
and color them in prose,
detail my meaningless existence
and wrestle with my demons,
drag my secrets across the page
turn my life into poems
and you think this is all about you.
Do No Miss this raw and powerful piece by Walt!!!
Chronic Pain is a heavy cross to bear
It shows no mercy, no compassion
It doesn’t know if you are young or old
Nor does it care
It grabs you in its tight grip
And will not let you go
The days are long
The nights are longer
Sleep is a sporadic thing
Coming in starts and stops
Restless legs always twitching
Like some bothersome constant itching
There are no answers
No instant cures
So we suffer in silence
At the mercy of the pharmaceutical companies
Chronic pain is a heavy cross to bear
~The Tennessee Poet~
©Walt Page 2018 All Rights Reserved
A cleave poem for the OctPoWriMo prompt, openings
When a door closes a window opens
onto a dream wide as the world
night falls dark sky full of stars
hope trickles like grains of sand
through the gaps a multitude
between the certitudes of tomorrows
and settles fathoms deep where pearls shine
out of reach so much wealth
on a forgotten seabed lighting up the gloom.