What Poetry can HealA Poem by Aimee Mahathycirca 2005, about poetry as an escape
In the arid heat of a summer day-
I thirst and sweat as children play. Though miserably hot, Am I not. I brought a poem-book to-day. As I read of times long past. Of happiness, or sea-ship mast. Of heat fatigue, I am relieved. I feel ocean's breeze as it blows past. In the sorrow of a funeral rite- I mourn over prayers recite. Yet weep I not, For I have brought- The rhymed tales of fey and knight. As I read of ancient wood. Of Queen Mab, or Robin Hood. My salty tears- And future fears- Are far away in lands of good. In frustration of writers' block. I write in vain, suffer from shock. So I retreat- To pages neat- Of older poets now 'neath a rock. As I read of love and death- I sigh myself a relief breath. My loss of words, These poems cure. My thoughts are no longer suppressed. © 2010 Aimee MahathyFeatured Review
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Added on March 13, 2010Last Updated on March 13, 2010 AuthorAimee MahathyBloomington, ILAboutI'm 33 now, much more settled into myself, and getting back to it again. The previous about me is gonna stay for now, since it's still somewhat accurate and I need some time to figure out what to say .. more..Writing
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