I know poems does not have to be rhyme, but I am rhyming mine.

It is just a preference that everyone has the right,
But rhyme or not rhyme a poem is poem when author recites.

Some are composed deep, imaginative or metaphoric,
Some are written simple, nonfigurative or realistic.

However it is wrote,
However it is composed,
Your gift of writing deserved to be exposed.

Let the words just flow,
Let your pen and paper do its work,
Someone might need and enjoy it folk,
So continue on, for you're doing great work.

Never stop creating for there are people waiting, appreciating and needing,
You are part of the community that will keep artistry living.

Yes, you heard it right,
you are an artist, just if you keep it alive,
If you read this, received this pat on the shoulder, for you from mine.

My head is in the clouds
Too high to be measured with numbers

Words, swimming and floating
inside my mind my breath

Let me go
for, you cannot ground me at all

Through generations
It comes to me
Kicked me a
" hello"
When I was weaning
In nature's Bower
Reverberating streams
Of laughter

It came to me
Often with a baton
Taking a stroll through time
Plucking strands of sweet sounds

We walked with people
Black and White
Red or wine
Walked past piano's dazzling concertos
And drugged past drums

Sitting in thought's
Blissful tower
It whispered
"Music for a while
Shall all thy woes
Begone"

I wish
I wish I liked STEM
I perpetuate the stereotype,
women studying English,
and art,
and languages

My love of the arts,
and the humanities,
Is regressing women's history

But it is my right
My right to study art,
and languages,
and theatre

Women's empowerment
And fight for equality,
is so I can study humanities,
and Tiera Fletcher could study rocket science

It took a few years to find ourselves.
In that time, my hair grew out,
and your height grew tall.
We grew like sunflowers.

All the other girls wanted crowns,
along with a Prince Charming,
while I took up fencing, and learned
how to shoot a basketball properly.

You learned the arts, how to
play sharp staccatos and paint pastel skies,
while the boys your age were
breaking windows with baseballs.

Your performances stunned the crowds.
Your fingers moved mountains.
You came to my competitions.
My saber moved faster than light.

From a distance, was how we grew.
We were the sky and the sea,
watching each other from a distance.
So close, yet so far apart.

formalities were always a must,
you'd have to be crazy to forget your manners.
Shoes off, Gi on, Belt ready;
forget that and the push ups would **** you.
As soon as anyone crossed that threshold,
their mind, body, and spirit tuned into an ancient frequency.
We were raw potential energy encased in flesh,
the trespasses we'd endured throughout the week
our sole source of fuel.

Sifu would shout, We would listen.
Our partners would punch us
And we'd block; no thought required.
With every belt, we moved up in the art;
Educated furthermore in climbing ladders.
That was the first time I had ever been disciplined
And not solely abused,
My first real encounter with tough love.

After those classes, I guess I felt safer around my parents,
But that didn't make them good people.
I almost had to fight them once,
Yet I couldn't bring myself to defend the dignity
Already taken from me.

Maybe I should have let my instincts and not my sense
Guide my hand that night,
Maybe then I'd be a hero to myself as well as everyone's villain.

Call me change joining
                  goddess art of
            "mnemosyne"
one of nine arts
       changing muses among
many several other arts mine are            
           memory at best!
I am changing my art
            and mouse
                   to include
          the beauty I see in many poets and poetessess
                on here H.P.
you are like gods and
             goddessess
    possessing nine glorious arts expressing
             diverse entertaining
inspiring muses
         memory commedy
idylic poetry
             beauty dance
                          grace allure
              a great poet showed me
to unstock from my
                   same old muse rhyme
to "fly free to glide soaring"
               exploring my mind
into change
         applying other arts
                 So I read your various
arts diverse muses from
             many of you
                  on here H.P    
                     greatfully learning
the many glorious poetic arts
                diversity humility
treasures best
                  to stick around
  H.P when the going
                         gets tough
         my ink flows freely
                   renewed
my best commedy mask's on!
                 shephesd's crook!
wreath of ivy!
        beauty grace in all of yours!
is here to stay
Inspired by great poet
           master
 Pagan Paul to use
                       my other arts  
             changing muses
~~~~~~~~~~
By:Karijinbba
updated 06-12-19

We were asked
to make wine.
We made poison as well.

©ladywithpen