This poem was written during my high school days when I was in my third depression, and when I found what an incredible healing tool writing could be. (Woab! I just had a metacognition flash typing that sentence: The act of finding something beautiful in a terrible time reflects the poem’s message it self. I found writing in my depression. [Oh, the isometric beauty!]) The 14th stanza (I’ve put it in bold.) has become a mantra for me when life splits at the seems.
“How did you hurt your face?” Asked my concerned coworker. “I hit my car,” was my matter-of-fact reply. Their looks of consternation […]
Isn’t it interesting that humans have feelings about the words that we use to express feeling?! This is property is called Phoneaethetics.
A haiku about my unconventionally colored home.
Action makes them real