Well, to share the poems I write is probably better done anonymously.
Therefore, you won’t know who I am ... but do we even ever really know who we truly are ourselves?
For us to be honest and open with others, we have to start by being honest and open with ourselves. For if we can’t be truthful with ourselves, what hope have we to be truthful with others.
Poetry reflects our inner most thoughts, and helps us contemplate the emotions we did not even know lied within … often deep within, shielded and obscured by our own persona … and our fears … but once in a while allowed to the surface when we let our conscience or emotion flow free when we cant but help drop our guard. A guard that only gets reinstated upon solice and contimplation, thereby allowing us to regain our composure. Only then can we present our normal facade to the world around, and bury thoughts and emotions deep within our soul, where we can only be judged by those that can read our minds.
Some of the greatest poetry can be discovered in a persons finest, or darkest hour. The finest hour, when emotion is overflowing, and they just want the world to know. The darkest hour, a time when they feel resigned to, abandoned, without hope, or solution. The hour they know not where to turn, who to turn, or even that they can turn. A hour that they feel they can cannot share except in words.
Poetry, all that is left behind when we are here no more. And to some, its the last thing they ever did. Our small footprint to show the direction we travelled, where we had been, where we wanted to be, and how we tried to get there. A record of struggle, achievement, joy and dispair.
I best start by putting up my "already done" stuff, as poetry is really best shared, and for it to stay in a folder on a shelf, is not what poetry was meant for.
Feel free to leave any comments you like on them.
Enjoy. TAP.
