Sunday is for Poetry

Do you remember as a child, you could paint or draw anything and your masterpiece would be hung on the refrigerator door? Writing poetry does the same for me. I use poetic license in just about every aspect of my life, not only my writing. So, on this lazy Sunday, I thought I'd sit under the tree and share some of myself with you, through poetry.

THE WRITER'S MILIEU

Strewn papers of genius

Lay around for years

Unseen only by the dust collected

And deep frown marks rejecting

The words and sentences

That run on, trying to escape the

hand in a catcher's mitt.

BLIND

Can a writer be so blind
That not a word of herself is understood?
Afraid and paralyzed to see further than
her pen.


CHIMES OF MY RHYMES

My love,
Can you hear the chimes of my rhymes?
All I have most times.
I wonder.
Will you partake, or shun
The chimes of my rhymes.


JEALOUSY

Jealousy is a silent, secret wish
To change what I am not
To what I never will be.

Long gone is my curly, dark hair
And dark brown eyes
That could not see
My wish to be,
Maria.


**All poems written by petra michelle**


http://www.ifreelance.com/pro/43547