Tag Archives: National Poetry Writing Month

Through the Eyes of my Story

This is my story.
It covers me,
every part.
I wear it like a uniform
in my head
and on my heart.

This is my story.
Bittersweet
on my tongue.
Can I ever taste another
without flavouring
it wrong?

This is your story.
When I look
at you I see
Your words through the eyes
of my own
biography.

This is your story.
Who am I
to judge you?
For whatever brought you this far
and carries
you through.

This is our story.
We are a people
who cry
To know and be known
until the day
that we die.

This is our story.
It was meant
to be heard
By each other and by the One
who first gave us
the words.

story glassesThere is power in story
To face failings and faults,
To embrace healing and laughter,
To trace the hand of God.

So we plant our stories
In the hearts and the minds,
Of all who will listen
And respond in kind.

So here’s me, one last poem for National Poetry Writing Month. In my mind, the scariest kind of writing of all.

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little mirror, little me

20130409-010752.jpg

When I look at you
 I see myself
undone...
 potential untapped
 brilliance undiscovered
 creativity unexplored
 vacuum sealed in the 
cellophane of childhood.

When I look at you
 I see myself 
unveiled...
 impulses unedited
 words unscripted
 feelings unrestrained
 the stark honesty of an 
undiluted soul.

I see the me I wish I was.
 The flesh and blood reflection of all
 my could-haves
 and would-haves
 and should-have-still.

I see the me I wish I wasn't.
 The pint-sized mimic of all
 my fearfulness
 and mindlessness
 and my selfish will.
little mirror
 little me
 Be better than I am,
 Better than I could be.

little mirror
 little me
 Like me, but so much more
 Extraordinary.

So here’s me, waxing poetic for National Poetry Writing Month.


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