Biography of Mark Normand
Writing is what I do to keep myself sane while life goes on around me. I never would have imagined that I might enjoy writing poems.I have only just recently started to write. Almost everything I have written I have done in the last 5 years or so I guess.I know writing really takes a lot of negative emotion away from me that I used to bottle up inside.It isn't healthy to the hold bad experiences in and it isn't polite to complain about them all day either. So I write and I can find some level of peace as I write. It has changed me for the better.I don't get as angry or upset any more about things others do.
People often comment on my poems and tell me they hope I feel better or that I need to move on to another girl or to talk to someone about my problems. I know a lot of what I have posted tends to be dark and has to do with heart break and pain, but I am fine. I am happy and although I have lived through everything I have written about at some point in life, I have survived and it helps to write about pain so I can learn how to avoid it as much as possible. All of us go through dark times in life and for now it seems to be what I have felt led to write about.The words seem to flow as I move my fingers on the key board. I don't sit down and try to think of some subject to write about.I just let the words flow and the results of this method are a lot of the poems I have posted. I would like to write more happy poems, but to plan what I will write doesn't work for me at this time. I suppose my style will change some as I keep writing. I can't say how it might change if it does, all I know is writing poems to please others is a foolish thing to do.I write for myself, it is an important release for me that I use often.I know people are very hard to please so I don't try, I just write. I enjoy it if people say they like what I write but that doesn't happen very often I don't expect it to happen either and it is not why I write.I would love it if my writing helped people but that is not why I write.I write because I have to and because it is one of the few things in this world that I enjoy doing.
Mark Normand Poems
Alone again inside it seems. With plastic friends and broken dreams. I sit in empty darkness beyond measure. Today just like so many things.
Go away my pain and sorrow. If you must come back tomorrow. Today I need to think of something happy.
The Last Goodbye
Look at me, please don't cry my darling; it's nothing I will be just fine. Smile, show me your beauty, let me look at my love one last time
Today just like so many days I waste away to nothing. Standing here, frozen by fear, I feel I must do something. The light within has grown so dim; the sunshine of my being. A cold grey darkness fills my soul; an empty lifeless feeling.
Smile upon the morning, a warm look about the day. A happy bright demeanor, to help you on your way.
When I wake up cold and empty. After all the good within me. Slowly drains out of a hole and I can't cry. I try to speak and all at once I find.
I will try for a thing. Of great beauty that sings. With those who would bask in it's light. I have been in distant dreams.
I'm here at the front of the back of the line, I was last but I think I'll go next. I've been here so long it seems like forever, I think it's time I sat down to rest.
Ship Wreck Of Faith
On the high seas of life, with no compass for direction. Held prisoner by emotion in my mental insurrection.
Put on my shoes and walk with me into my world of sorrows. My endless state of loneliness, cold pain, and lost tomorrows.
Once I thought about a day. Where faith and love had gone away. And the only thing left was the color gray. Could I find a reason to live?
Our words are not just chatter. A bunch of useless sounds. Our words were meant to matter. To be kind, not to boss people around.
I think you are beautiful because of your eyes Blue as the ocean or the mid day sky. I think you are gorgeous because of your smile Sunshine and happiness glow from inside
Happy is the bird who flies into the star lit sky. From every where the darkness glows, as far as meets the eye.
Her Love Is Dead
Love is blind; but still we see the lying, cheating, heart.
This stranger we no longer know; who rips our life apart.
Where is the one who shared my love, my precious darling girl?
She's gone away and somehow changed; now jaded by the world.
Her perfume fill this empty place; it's all that still remains
Of the love we shared so sweet, before I went insane.
Her empty words and promises lie scattered on the floor.
The bitter trail of pain so cold; her footsteps out the door
I look inside