tortured poet
I sometimes am,
when all thoughts
and motions once clammed,
convulses through me;
vibrations from a soul, man,
within.

when I notice
and lean in,
words spew out;
liberating me
from deep yearning.

I stand here translucent
Shine through me sunlight
Finish my portrait, colour my grays
Until no shadows remain

is it curious that we spare our souls
through poetry,
but remain closed books to our "family"?

I just had a vision;
of all of us @HelloPoetry poets
online around the world, reading and writing poetry.
What do we look like; this precious community?
Are we similar or vastly different?
Tall or small, dark or light, and handsome or indifferent?!

I would love to see, all of us from up high,
flourishing, or anguishing, in our creative drive.
May we collectively motivate one another,
as we strive, applaud as one hovers,
and empathise as one dives,
down, deep low, crash and burns, as we try.

Dear imperfect me,
You are your own, just be.
You wrestle with insecurity,
that you can't settle peacefully.
Dear imperfectly,
The way you are is how you're meant to be.

Don't close your eyes and pretend you can't see,
Cos when you do, you're missing free
dom, and the richness; vibrancy,
of what it means to be living, see!

  Dear imperfect me,
The devil wants you to be devastatingly,
lonely, to isolate yourself from me,
to run around, head cut off, me.
But dear imperfect me,
there's no such thing as superiority,
it's just what we do when we are achingly,
small inside, and out, dumb wittingly,
disconnected from reality.
Such a waste; insecurity, obligatory shame, we accept begrudgingly.

  Dear imperfect me,
Can we try something new, happily?
Can we live more peacefully,
seeing ourselves progressively?
As beauty wrapped, uniquely!
As unsentimentally evolving.

  Dear imperfectly perfect me,
You are, you are, who you're meant to be,
For now, until you're not; key!
Grab this truth wholeheartedly.