Solitude closes in
clogging my throat
gasping for breath
that won’t come.
A mantra emerges
pulsating in rhythm
nothing
nothing
nothing
I feel nothing
therefore I am
nothing.
My skull vibrates
from the intensity
from this war cry
of the heart.
pentopapergal
Mountain Mornings
Mornings are cold
in the mountains.
The sun has yet to raise
its head over
the forested peeks
rising above us.
The chickens are awake
squawking for scratch
they know is coming
while the puppies yelp
for the mother
that is running the hills
leaving them hidden
and safe from prying eyes.
Let’s put these introductions aside….
I just recently graduated with a BA in both Public Health and Creative Writing. Writing is my passion, but due to some recent setbacks my family is facing (and life in general), I have been struggling in making time for writing. My hopes for the Poetry Marathon is to gain that desire and passion back, and maybe start making a place for it back in my life again.