there are as many definitions
of poetry as there are poets
as a writer I feel poetry is
a form of art; the antidote for
depression an illness that can
take a away all hope from a
determined soul with a passion
for living life but not enough
strength to climb from the deep
pit of darkness that shadows the heart

I know from experience that
poetry is a powerful antidote
yet it may not cure depression
but will help keep it under control
my mind I know is an ocean flooded
with feelings, emotions and thoughts
when its too hard to say what I feel I
grab my pen and poetry become the paint
of my unspoken thoughts

poetry is my lasso of words that has
pulled barbwire of confused thoughts
from the crevices of my thinking mind
bridging from the rocky cliffs of frustration
to the solid valley covered lands of peace

hidden in the hovering clouds of depression
is a locked door that blocks the exit of
a crisp and clear wonderful world holding
the true beauty of imagination hostage yet
to free the darkened soul use the antidote for
it is the powerful key unlocking creativity
as a writer I call this; the key of "POETRY"

two things
we can give our children:
roots and wings

I burnt down the metal cage
that confined me

I have broken up with God
and I am blossoming

without his hand pushing
my head down

I eat blackberries straight from
the bush

tasting the dirt where they grew
the tightest bud bursting

into fruit that nurtures me
that sustains me

I am Godless and cageless
I am a woman of

flames, starting fires
wherever I go

burning, burning, turning
into ash

into the very dirt I courted
with my purple stained

lips

I'm afraid of dying alone.
I'm afraid of how I'm always the one
Who reaches out to loved ones first.
Like they're more comfortable apart from me
Than I am from them.
And it becomes a chore, a conscious decision
To not obsess over how long it's been since we've spoken,
And if it means they don't like me or they're just busy.
I'm terrified of everything shortening my life span
Or the quality of the time I have left.
How severely I'm impacted by my own wilting body
And how many goals it means will be left unticked.
Sometimes when it's night, and the world is covered in silence,
I wish to myself that I'd never existed.
Such a waste to be given life and to spend it all
On illness, misery and loneliness.
I'm scared of dying alone,
But I'm more scared of living alone.
And I am living alone.

the best of times;
they rhyme
in a sense,
make hearts calm
in a way,
the poets tend to make
sense
of that,
write of it
though it
is all there
anyway.