Biography of Adalie Hettie
I was born and raised in Baton Rouge, LA. A few of my hobbies are photography(not professionally) , drawing, painting and poetry. I enjoy traveling and being open to learn new things. I have an insatiable thirst for knowledge. I like free spirits, hate labels. So, hello to all and I'm very happy to be here on this site. I look forward to reading others work and hope to make some new friends that I can share the love of poetry with.
Adalie Hettie Poems
The Hate That I Hate
I hate the hate that resides in me now I hate the hate that is so heavy it weighs me down I hate the hate that keeps my emotions tightly wound
To Thine Own Self Be True?
To Thine Own Self Be True? I wonder if the lips that first released this really knew It’s discerning to stand in the light transformed
What could I write with a pen in hand? My mind wants to wander, but my feet have not been. Can the page be a place to reveal my picture? A snap shot of thoughts orbiting vivid and clear.
By His Hand
Something tugs at my heart when I hear your song For me it’s no more pretending, let it be known I understand that you’ve been calling and I’ve wandered too far Many mirrors were placed before me and yet the reflection I still ignored
Sleeping with my eyes wide open Head bent low, now steadily walking Inside this frame, sits a wistful daze And many moments lost, but not forgotten
Apple and a Tree
They say the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree And I often wonder how much of you is a part of me? I vaguely remember what I saw. Looking through little eyes,
I alone, made the wrong choices I alone, didn’t listen to those inner voices I alone, went right when I should have went left I alone, laid there and wept
I trusted myself with you completely. It’s still there, the burn- When I think of you it becomes heated. I think of how you deceived me,
A place to let my mind wander My thoughts flow freely My body moves toward the trees Listening to the autumn songs
Spirit of Fear
I will keep this vessel shielded; no blood will be shed from your sharp tipped spear. I’ve been running through my ages, blindly dodging despair. True to me are treacherous thoughts that continually wander back there.
She sings about the struggle It surrounds her, absorbs her Like the color purple She’s tired of thinking
Mellow mood Shoulders slouched Feet planted Borrowing time the brain has granted. Behind every corner, the Prickling Light,
I won’t let you down Like so many times before Take it, my word if it’s worth it There is nothing here between us
Come and Go
This time it’s too late The permanent markings are taking shape I know it in my soul; I know it’s too late
What could I write with a pen in hand?
My mind wants to wander, but my feet have not been.
Can the page be a place to reveal my picture?
A snap shot of thoughts orbiting vivid and clear.
Can my creations strum chords that will penetrate and heal?
Exposing expressions that are no longer smeared.