the pen is her therapist, confessor, friend
thousands of poems burden the pages
but the pain is never written away
made sufferable....at times
by private revelations
but never erased
no, never erased
the poignant knowledge
that her sands are running out
and though hundreds in time read
a thousand minute glimpses of a soul
not one of them really knows the poet at all
Most poets choose it that way, I wear my heart on my sleeve for all to read..Beautiful poetry as is this photo you chose...
Peace, love and light,
Amber "V"
Oh Belle, such wise sad words. You have the soul of a poet. And being one of those who reads the words that cover thousands of pages of agony and pain, I appreciate you and your writing. So like all of us with the sands running out a bit faster than we would like keep filling those pages and I'll keep reading them. Enjoying them. Crying with them. Laughing with them. But one thing I know when I start to read your thousands of pages of words that I will be moved. Hugs and Love, Liz
there is a key, a magic key, a most wonderful key, alas a rare and often unattainable key...that key is the soul mate love that we find only on rare occasions who can open a poet's heart by reading their work...
fee
Wow.
You always touch hearts, but this time you found a short cut.
You bowled a strike. There must be at least 10 of us sprawled out on the floor.
Bravo.
the premise of this poem is powerful as well as its revelations ...
Reviewed by D. Vegas (Reader)
Reviewed on March 20, 2010
I think I know something of you---have a stronger capacity of caring then most, you feel with your soul and when you love, it comes from
your heart. . .that is why you're a writer !!
As each poem emerges, perhaps we glimpse a little more of the 'real' poet...We choose how much we wish to reveal of our inner selves, but even then, everyones interpretation is different..We remain, well hidden behind our words..
Excellent display of written work combined with photo, and music; all placing together pieces of a puzzle that leaves a reader to wanting to know the real you :-) Glad I took a moment out to visit my friends here at AD today.
Reviewed by Jerry Bolton (Reader)
Reviewed on March 20, 2010
Ah, therein lies the mystery of poets universal. What makes them write sonnets, etc., about a myriad of subjects and emotions? Why, instead of building a great bridge poets are content to sit back and write about the glistening half-naked bodies as they strap steel against steel and a bridge they do build. The parts of a poets heart is in each and every poem they write. And you are correct, "the pen is her therapist, confessor, friend," but instead of absolving all the pain and anguish within the poet's heart it only dulls it and makes it livable. Still, that is good.
Inside the Methadone Clinic. Addiction to heroin, methadone, and other opiates. Destruction. The primal addiction" of the child, power and control over your own life, the institutions and the characters, the love between a mother and son. This book i
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Peace, love and light,
Amber "V"
beautifully written and the photo is perfect!
Carole~
A well written piece indeed!!
Sandie Angel :o)
Georg
John
fee
You always touch hearts, but this time you found a short cut.
You bowled a strike. There must be at least 10 of us sprawled out on the floor.
Bravo.
John
your heart. . .that is why you're a writer !!
GOD BLESS YOU ALWAYS
Tony
Hugs, Diana..
God bless.