Poetry: Not even for me

I have missed you. Blogging has become a side bar on my to do list. I have been writing a lot but my focus has been on poetry not the essays of before. I figured that sharing my poetry was not worth it, but what the hell. I love this blog, and I will share what I write. With my 29th birthday upon me and a time for prospective, I have realized even more my love of the written word. I love to forming words into art. Art from my soul. I have decided to do some writing courses and started school again. Back to college (kinda) I go. No class rooms but online courses to get a certificate in creative writing, and I begin in January. I plan to share more on this beautiful blog, even if it be introspective and odd, like my poetry can be. But true to form, it is me, and that is what this space represents.


Day upon day, 



Putting on my many hats. 

My many faces.

My many masks.  

                        The urge to go back is looming


But I know. 

I know, it doesn’t really matter

                                                  because I cannot go back,

                                                                                            because going back does not fit anymore. 

The size has changed. 

That old hat is out. 

The new hats are in. 

                                 Kicking and screaming, My feet are dragging. 

                                 Back to a time of simple, curled up existence

Lost in my mind, introspective


                                                          egocentric soulful journey’s

Now a director of my world, 

                                            Become entwined with the energies around me. 

Doing the work that is required, being the responsible one,

                                                                                             With sense

                                                                                             With purpose

Its not all bad? so why fight? 


           Maybe be it the fear of adulthood, 

                                               Childhood innocence gone into the winds of ‘growing up’ 


                                                                                                                   becoming a mature mother, wife, daughter, sister

The jobs of my womanhood

Time changes all.  

                             It stands still for no one. 

Not even for me, fighting or not. 

Much love,



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s