And a poet is free
When rhymes or rules
No more binds him
Into chains of restrictions
When punctuation matters no more
And all he has to do is write
Write from his heart upon a page
That belongs only to him…
Life isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass…it’s learning to dance in the rain.
Source: Unknown
Life Line
I write not for thee attention or to be recognized. But its my escape from everything else. As the ink pours out my pen, my emotions scream as they are released from within. Each key stroked on my computer relaxes me. For I am able to breath; able to move once again. My voice is void and my thoughts go unheard but when I begin to write or type the words just flow. Its just natural for me. I love to write… I would write all day if allowed. For to know me, is only capable by reading me. Reading what pours through my veins onto paper. Which is easy when its straight-forward. But sometimes everything is hidden and one must read between the lines. Should I apologize for those moments? I’m afraid today is not that day and neither will tomorrow. Writing is my life, its in-tune with the beat of my heart. Its my airflow and my life line. Without these written expressions to voice my opinion I’m afraid I wouldn’t be me. My thoughts would stay hidden, void, and truly unknown for myself. For I write not to allow others to sympathize with me but to escape from my mind. to get rid of my thoughts and emotions that’s kept deep in my heart. This is me, this is who I am. And poetry is my life line.
It’s time to write again…
My ink is no longer dry…
It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for, and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing. It doesn’t interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for the adventure of being alive. It doesn’t interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life’s betrayals or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain! I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it or fade it, or fix it. I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own, if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, to be realistic, to remember the limitations of being human.
Source: Oriah Mountain Dreamer (via venebelle)
To live is the rarist thing. Most of us exist that is all
Source: Oscar Wilde
(Source: unfinishedgirl)
What do I say?
What do I do?
These questions need answers…
But I’m hurting you.
How could I…… It wasn’t you.
Perfect, yes!!!
Yet I’m confused
With myself and my wants I
Knew something was wrong…
And all the arrows all the fingers
point to ME never you.
The clock is ticking
The time has come
And answer is needed
BUT
Never wanted
