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There were sparks in her eyes that no one can see
She admired someone she wanted to be
Yet, it was destroyed by reality
She said to herself, " I can only be me".
every sad soul comes around
once in awhile they settle down
but once they’ve gained back their crown
my silence overpowers their sound
 Apr 2020 brent marasigan
Colm
You're either in the path of the demon
Facing down the fear forthcoming
That or away you're running
And I am done with that
As a being forthcoming
About who I want
In this caution  
Of none
I will
Be
And over time,
My pen stopped bleeding
But my heart didn't
There is the ancient story of a shepherd boy
whose king outfitted him with armor
to ready him for the challenges of the day
and the boy could not walk
so he threw off the armor
picked up his sling
and tended his father’s flock
with peace and joy freely erupting in song.

My armor is not wealth or wit
I cannot make myself fit
into the current conventions and hype
trying to conform to the normal type
stops up the energies that yearn to flow
freely and gleefully and urge me to go
to the dawn, darkness, clouds and sun
to wrap myself in words that run
like sparkling streams
and windswept dreams.

Poetry is my armor for each day
where worries and problem allay
where I search my feelings and mind
for the word elixir loosening knots that bind.
This armor does not weigh me down
but frees me to my triggering town
where I find and create the poet me
and the landscape of my soul’s poetry.
My favorite book about writing poetry is one by Richard Hugo, Triggering Town where he says, “Your triggering subjects are those that ignite your need for words. When you are honest to your feel¬ings, that triggering town chooses you. Your words used your way will generate your meanings. Your obsessions lead you to your vocabulary. Your way of writing locates, even creates, your inner life. The relation of you to your language gains power. The relation of you to the triggering subject weakens.”
 Apr 2020 brent marasigan
EmB
Here's a poem to celebrate poetry month!

Challenge by Jean Nette

Life, I challenge you to try me,
Doom me to unending pain;
Stay my hand, becloud my vision,
Break my heart and then-- again.

Shatter every dream I've cherished,
Fill my heart with ruthless fear;
Follow every smile that cheers me
With a bitter, blinding tear.

Thus I dare you; you can try me,
Seek to make me cringe and moan,
Still my unbound soul defies you,
I'll withstand you--and, alone!
A dream is not a noun which stays in our mind.
It is a verb to think and move our hands.
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