The Blank Page

The Blank Page
By Pauline Harris

The longing was 
Getting to me
I needed to write
The urge was nagging
Nagging my core
I had to write soon

All these ideas
Bounced around
Sitting down
Looking at the paper
I see the lines
Are straight 
Perfectly parallel 
Spaces in those lines
Appear to be magical
Inviting me
To write something

And yet
I hesitate 
My mind
Now blank

Lost 
In the
Moment

Both anxious 
And confused
I wait
Patiently

Breathing 
In and out 
A moment 
To rest

And then
Begin
Again

A blank page
No more
Words appear 
To taken form
A dream fulfilled 
Written by me

The Poetry Hook

I admit it. I have dabbled a bit.

But I think that I am hooked
Really bad, maybe another book
Might be written by this poet’s mind.
~pharris

Poetry, Important?

Why Poetry is Important…

Poetry brings to life…emotions and daily living…thoughts and moments in time…words become more than life itself…when poets express life

Old Answers

 
Many moons have past
Since the writings
Wise and concise
Foretold of questions
Yet to be asked
Voices not born
Lore telling truths
Many would deny
Secrets within
Unifying moments
Would bring unity
And understanding
There are many
In one, but only if
And a big if
We recognized
Our right to carry on
Inspiring others
To find joy
Within the wisdom
Written so long ago
~by Pauline Harris

Words Inspired

(Inspired by a painting of a transformation from a book to butterflies)
Calm day brought to us
After many hectic ones
Focus changed
Challenges accepted
Words did appear
As figments once
Dreamt about
Writings on the wall
Inside my head
Filtered out
With hand, pen, and paper
Here written words
Floating into flutterbies
Forever inspiring others
By Pauline Harris

A Call To Write

 

Before me set
A tablet and some pens
Fragments of tales
Bounced around in my head
Clouds blanketing the sky
Moments weeping by
Someone distantly saying hi
Circling sayings mustering in
All forming a sensible wordage
I pick up the pen
As the words flow
Onto the pages
A pleasure to write
Grateful for being
The vessel, thank you.
By Pauline Harris

The Journal

Many moons ago, a little girl
Wrote of tales and secret thoughts
Then her brother discovered these inks
Telling how the government knew all
Every word she wrote
And threatening to lock her up
If she wrote more, even truths
The girl believing him, hid the journal
 
One day many years later
The journal looked up to see
There were sad eyes of a lady
Reading the pages
Finding courage to write more
Knowing the flow is stronger
And no longer confined by lies
Creating miracles instead, the lady wrote on
…by Pauline Harris

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