I began writing at fourteen for a poetry unit in school. Our assignment was to fashion our own book and write poems in it. From the moment I started my first verse I felt such freedom and innately knew this was my destiny. I enjoy reading all types of poems. I value poetry regardless of the skill level of the author(s) . When I write it is as if my subconscious takes over. I'm still trying to grasp the meaning of many of my own works. I often have the feeling that my words are battles on the page and the meaning or resolution is shrouded in ambiguity. I express happiness, sadness, and a gamut of emotions. People often compliment me on my depth of vocabulary. However, I limit myself because I feel that certain words and phrases are for fake people only. Those that are out of touch with the truth in regard to their nature and state. I do not judge them, I know how easily one can be deluded. I'm still in the process of finding my authentic self. My life has been filled with immense difficulty and challenges, sometimes of my own will. However I try to take the focus off of self and be reminded that " things are hard all over" or something like that. I admire famous poets such as Coleridge and Tennyson. I also like Poe. Ones I don't like are generally those that receive unbridled amounts of praise. I refer to these poets in secret as sacred cows.
There is a field that falls with dew
And tiny mice hurry round,
Bearing pitchers like silver slippers
Tirelessly helping these puddles along,
...
Tell me, did the lightning crack the sky?
Or did it straighten into ribs
Could be freedom or the silent cage
Could be trouble in Alcatraz
...
Die stare at me
They eye, a black bead
Olive green, reptilian peridot
Fore Mars, he matted blood
...