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.

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Day upon day, 

Evolving

             Changing.

Putting on my many hats. 

My many faces.

My many masks.  

                        The urge to go back is looming

                                                            deafening

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

                                               Selfish

                                                          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? 

Why? 

           Maybe be it the fear of adulthood, 

                                               Childhood innocence gone into the winds of ‘growing up’ 

                                                                                                                      conforming 

                                                                                                                   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,

Jessica

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