As the emotions come back and tears well
As my heart pours out my spirits swell
One moment in time one day at a time
The pain and the healing the suffering sublime
To heal we must feel to be brave we must fear
As the emotions come back, I know I am here
This is my first attempt at poetry since I lost all my work 10 years. Ago, seems lame now, ill work on it. I remember a few lines from a poem i wrote about an acid trip, I think my old work was better, you decide.
Vast silent sweet vivacious, closed in sounds divine and spacious
Love and hate can't relate why oh why open that gate
I remember other odd bits too
Listen to the madman hear what he says its not too late to change your ways, we strive to find love and only find hate, so why oh why open up that gate
Very painful losing works that meant so much to me at the time, and I'm sure they were so muxh more rounded and complete than I recall, but I'm gonna try to reclaim my verse, its about the only honest way I've ever been able to be honest with myself.
Tuesday, 15 December 2009
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
I'm sorry to hear that you lost your work mate & I can certenly identify with that. I lost a bunch of writings when my hard drive crashed a couple of years ago. But I guarantee you that your best work is still to come.
ReplyDeleteI don't think this poem here is lame at all. It's a painfully beautiful & very accurate description of the long and arduous road that one has to embark on in becoming sober. When I first attempted stopping back in April 2005 I was having panic attacks, developed Obsessive Compulsive disorder and hypochondria. If it wasn’t for the right people around me at the time then I probably would have ended up killing myself, although for some reason I’m ashamed and saddening to say. Those feelings were so strong & the thoughts so terrifying that I just wanted to do anything to make them all go away.
Now that those days seem so far away and I’m generally happy, one day at a time, I’ve never felt so much love in my heart for myself and in turn for the rest of the world. But reading your poem churned up those old feelings and memories of just how hard and dark the struggle used to be. I’m going to print it out if you don’t mind. I’ll make sure I put your name on the bottom. How do you want to sign your work? Andy Brown, or something else? Keep writing my friend and hang in there.
Keith