I Want People to Share Their Poetry

[center][i]It was then I knew, through a damaged door.

My eyes beyond its splinters,

I found you laying on the floor -
with a bed of tulips growing from your fingernails.

The sun rised without you,
the newest phantom of our ragged front porch.
And the wind had learned every drawn out syllable that was your name.


Even in the quiet it whispers.


Passed rosy eyes and snow,
I thought many things that shimmered violently -
illuminated small light bulbs that swung (always swinging) in my minds perfect eye.

I spied what had become of us,
with two OK's as my binoculars.
Drifting farther from land with a bamboo raft.

Shifting of Earth,
hands unlocking.
Shaking me awake to nothing.

But the sun still rised without you.[/i][/center]

I love to write prose and poetry especially when it flows and I’m not generating it but act instead as a conduit from my heart.

Writing is the best form of therapy

I wish I could. My creativity and artistical abilities have seem to all but disappeared. I just can't seem to find that motivation.

It's gone both ways with me. It's saved me from falling into dark times, and it's also pushed me deeper into them.

Playing guitar, singing has helped me often