Poem

To wish is my way of relay

And to wish that I might inlay

Something that is positive today

I wish to sway

That is, I meant to say

Writing is a person’s attache

To wish is to pray

And in having hope, to stay

Because anything less is dismay.

I wish for your day

To brilliantly display

The inside of your heart, okay?

To wish that all your troubles beneath you lay.

To write something that may make way

For your motivation someday.

All rights reserved. MwsR 2022

Playing around with rhyming of words. hope you enjoyed it. MwsR

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Pain Is A Pen by MwsR

When I think back on my life, the fifty some years I have been alive on this earth, I have many things that I hold in thought. I think of being adopted, first and foremost. I would not say being adopted made me, but it sure shaped my opinions, my ideas, my motives, at times, and so forth.

One of the reasons I write is because i have a lot of things inside this brunette haired head. I have always used my writing be it by pen and paper, or by typing, as a form of therapy. I have never been to someone for therapy and frankly I am not in favor of doing that, as it pertains to me, I have however, seen those who are so much happier and better for going to see someone in the therapy business. I do believe it can and does help some. I for myself, choose to let God and myself deal with my own issues.

Thinking of my life, I mentioned being adopted. Adoption has many outcomes. Some are painful, some are great, and some adoptions are just so-so. Like with everything in life, adoption is not a guarantee that a person will be happy or fulfilled. It does not discriminate between person’s of any particular race or creed. I believe adoption is like either a means to better predicament, or perhaps someone’s dream in that they wished to be adopted, or maybe it gives hope where hope was lost. If adoption is done right and with open minds, I believe there is much potential for a better life, a more loving one, and a more stable future. I’m not here to just write about adoption, all though to know some of the reason’s why I write, one might need to understand, that I was adopted.

For me pain was a pen. It was the means to get things off of my chest, from around my heart, and out from inside my mind. My pen has always been emotion. I write because I am empathetic and a very sensitive person. I can almost feel another’s plight o their pain. Sometimes it is because I too, have lived their way. Maybe I have contemplated some of their same emotions before. I am not sure that it is just pain that keeps me writing. I think I write because I want to help others. I want others not to feel alone in the emotions they have. Although we all are individuals, we are also emotional human beings.

If you have pain in your past, in your life, in this moment, how can you turn that into something else, maybe something positive? I write sometimes of things I see, sometimes it is things I feel. More than not it something I have lived before that pushes me to write. I do not dwell on what I write, and honestly half of the time I don’t even re-read it. I feel that when I am writing it is coming as it is laid upon my heart. If I were to re-read most of it, I would see flaws, see errors, and if I correct those, I would miss the emotion that led me write it. I don’t know if that makes sense to you. I hope you are following me.

I know people that plan their writings, plan their poems, plan their posts carefully and to a “T”. I do not. I write poems especially as they come in my head. See, that is why it is therapy. You don’t plan what you are going to say in aa therapy session, do you? You just let emotions come as they come. I like rhyming and although poems don’t have to rhyme, I like the flow of rhyming. I like the correlation, like it connects the first line to the next. It is easy to read. It makes things stick in your mind. Like a favorite song verse or a saying that you’ve heard on the radio or someone has “YouTubed”.

Another thing I think about is, what my life will be in the remaining years I have left on this earth. I worry over things that have never happened, but could. I am sometimes a worrywart. I think of scenarios before they actually occur. I use my thinking to come up with a solution or way to handle things. I bet you all do that to.

I love to be able to express myself, express my thoughts, and share something that I think is important. Pain is the pen that helps me write. The point that it read by countless others, and perhaps shared with others, makes me feel blessed. We are given certain opportunities in this world. We can help others, we can hurt others, or we can hurt and damage others. What does your writing do?

There are so many facets of a person’s life. We can either deal with those facets or keep them or ignore them. Either way they will find a way to reveal the issues, or problems we all have. You can write or dance, or create, or do anything that will help you. We should not keep things locked up inside where it will cause damage. Then again, not everything is to be set free from inside either. We are complex creatures and our minds produce alot of funk that might be disturbing or scary to others. Our minds also connect with our feelings and not everyone will understand or accept your thoughts. That doesn’t mean you are not allowed to do whatever means you feels to help yourself. You should, because sometimes we are the only ones who can help us. Sometimes it is a necessary thing for us to take care of us.

As my life has had many ups and downs, many turn arounds, many smiles and frowns, your life does too. Give each moment of your life credit, give yourself a full life. Live and let live. Love and be loved. Where pain has been my pen, I am still happy in the end. I am still having a good life. I made it through many storms of life but I freed myself, God loved me more than I loved myself. That has been enough.

I shall see you all on the other side of the rainbow! MwsR

Image result for rainbow

I shall see you on this side of the rainbow~!

Poem by MwsR

Despite

Bitter pains flow from the grave

Undeliberate it kind of gets paved

Standing all alone, I often weep

Multiplied a lot of the times, like traffic on the street

Restless joints keep me on edge

Feeling like I am trapped, cut down and shaped like a hedge

Despite my best intentions

I collapse underneath my inhibitions

The weight I carry is great in everything

Like a person who has no where to set his things

“Listen to the sound of your heart”, they say

But no-one can tell me it will be okay

No-one knows the struggles, the defeat I have had

I bet if they would be sad.

No, life did not just pick out me

To steal away all sanity

It did not say “Well good”, it simply cried for me

Took my peace and some of my dignity

No, I am not crazy, although it took some time to see that

I didn’t wake up one day and just feel that.

It took initiative, a pondering mind

An eye for all things, not one that was blind

I learnt the whole way, whether I realized it then

I repeated some chapters, even way back when.

Blessed assurance I have not claimed

That would be the end of my insane

I do not like green eggs or ham

But do not tell me to give a damn.

My mind is always creating, always evolving

Like my heart, it will continue revolving

One day I will write of better days and better things

But until then…

See the source image
MwsR

Image result for Free Copyright Symbol

Paper and Pen~poem

Stead firmness can be found

Once,I did stand,on solid ground

Not anymore

My heart cannot find its footing

My feet cannot make a stance

Too much sand and water under them

Life Is full of hardships that have taken a toll

I’ve watched people come

I watched people go

Some of them really hurt me

Some of them I wish had stayed

Is this how my life is supposed to have been played?

Fighting the many who came for my soul

Prayers and dreams kept me afloat

Sometimes, the tide turned me over

I had to swim with everything that was in me

I grabbed at twigs or anything I could find

The twigs were those that listened

The swim was my struggle

The tide was those that took love from me and threw it away

Like in nature, all fight to survive

This has been me, in my life

Sometimes, I fought my own self

Sometimes I ran away

So many things I can remember that I never got to say

But that’s in the past

And I think I’ll leave it in my poems

In my writing, with paper and pen.

I’m sure you’ll hear from me again.

MwsR❤️

17 Free Writing Contests With Cash Prizes (Up to $25,000)/SHARE

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Some of these fiction markets pay up to $150, and some pay more, up to approximately $750. Some of these also accept poetry and non-fiction. They are either open for submissions now or will open soon. Some deadlines are approaching quickly. — S. Kalekar Escape Artists: PodCastle They want quality fantasy fiction, and publish both… Keep reading…

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