Spilled Word > Poetry <

Poetry to me, are spilled thoughts. Each word feeding my starved soul.

Lately, poetry has taken a front seat and I’ve found myself pushing my WIP a little to the back. (Not too far) I use to write back in the day, in hidden journals in my room or during class in high-school. The words would just come and stay trapped in my head until I set them free on paper or books, most of the time right on my hand in black ink.

I stopped writing of course when life got too hard and became a little less sweet. When I had to work from dawn to dusk and the pain my heart was too much for me to attempt deal with. So I pushed it back. For years and years, every now and then scribbling some words down on a napkin, setting it down and then losing it.

Fast forward to today. Today, I am embracing the writer in me and completely in love with the poet. I knew she was there but I forgot all about her. I’ll be cooking, or talking, or just watching tv and just like when I was younger the words would find me as if they were just floating around looking for someone to bring them to life. On rough days at home when I’m beating myself up, they tap on my shoulder and feed my soul. Once they are written in my notebook and I see the words proudly on paper, I can finally breathe and let the pain go, the stress of the day, the sadness inside. The words have empowered me and they’ll never know what they each mean to me. Not even I knew their power.

Do you read or write poetry? Have a favorite poet? Comment below, I would love to know if words help you as they do me.

Thank you for reading.*

12 thoughts on “Poetry to me, are spilled thoughts. Each word feeding my starved soul.”

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