Candice Renae Williams
Biography of Candice Renae Williams
'Trap’t in a maze of words, Images blocking the way. This is found within your mind, Changing your mood. It generally holds you in its thrall Whether or not you’ve reached the top. '
I often find that my love of words and word play and how it sounds as I say the words and the images provoked... and etc... are what keep me alive... well, not literally...
The point is I write poetry from the heart. Whether or not I'm in a good mood or not, I've kept a poetry journal since the beginning of sixth grade.
i raise my beer in rememberance to you ~Rosey~ wherever in the sky you may be- who taught me the true meaning of poetry...you words forever written in aging ink-
'If nothing else-I am a poet.
At least thats what I see of me
A lover of words that cannot be fathomed
By most of society
I love words Beautifully placed upon a page
More than i could ever love anyones face'
'I don't understand their placement of words-
so constrained inside-as if they're murderers
and I merely the one being buried alive.'
'You see Candice, When a poet falls asleep at night Her mind floats to the sky
and chats it up with Jupiter-
and neptune if there's time!
When a poet spies a black sky
& closes her eyes to sleep
Her mind is off in Birmingham
Her mind is off in Leeds
SO if you see a poet acting
Nothing short of strange
Her mind is haveing tea with the waitress
on the aeroplane.'
'I could use a cry today
but my tears refuse to come
They ran off some time ago
like thelma and louise on the run
I think not of the Redwoods
But simply of the train
that will carry me to Amherst
Through the whining, fatal rain'
I enjoy your poetry Rosey even to this day, written on marked page eleven-of my poetry diary.
So if you are reading my poetry now- Please know that you are reading a part of my heart, and though it may seem a trifle strange the way the words seem to arrange, I hope you honor them with critique and advice rather than try to rearrange. Rosey taught me something and this I now tell you, every poem written from the heart has a beauty that no revision can part.
Currently, I am typing these poems up. I have revised them many times but if your a poet you probably already understand what I say when I write that I just don't have the heart to revise some of them.. I know that some of them are rhyming challenged and lacking any coherent order...but pray remember that a set pattern isn't everything...
Anyway, I just want to share them with you.
a fellow poet who loves words like me.
Candice Renae Williams Poems
Waiting For Rain
I love the rain, The way it gracefully falls from the leaves, To plop soundlessly on an unforgiving ground, Soaking up the rain until it fades away.
Innocence Of A Rose
Love is delicate, As like the petals of a rose Love is innocent, like the purity of a rose
Madamn Can Penname C
'Who am I Who am I' everyone gather round i'll shed my thorny crown and sing a lilting melodic trill for ye.
A Prisoner Of Doubt
A prisoner of doubt is quick to the drain being bound to his pout, With a crippling chain.
My Sister's Funeral
Strike, spark, and inhale. I fling the used match to the side, exhale, and take another hard puffing. People stood awkwardly in line-proceeding
When she loves, she'll hold it tight in her heart When she cries, she'll hide all the pain in her heart
The tears fall faster, Silently down my face.
Amongst A Flower
Your hope is a leaf, amongst a flower, where liquidy dew drops fall, into its gentle grasp.
There is a tiny plant, A Lilac, Weathered with drought, Aged with an instinct for survival.
A Girl In The Corner
Ignore me. I do not realize- I have absolutely no poise and I have no ties anymore.
Let the darkness take my solitude Drowning in the rotting horror it has caught May it feel the stinging barbs of fear Ever clawing desperately from my mind
Am I Not?
I am dead, am I not? Somewhere I left my heart. I feel it waiting, For a chance, when I return.
Attempting A Poem
I tried to write a poem today. but I lacked the will to think. Every time I heard the clink
Forget; An Optimal Solution When One Pos...
Cigarettes... The burn in my throat is so familiar. Cough, sleep, cough, and wake. Burn’t muck dripping down the drain.
Part Of The Story Of It
Deep within my brain
I search for something inhumain
Underneath my memory
It should have a certain quality
Insane though I may be
I still believe what it will show to me
How I know this
Relates to an answer I can not miss
Horrow dwells in there