My Mind Works in Poetry

When I was growing up and navigating adolesence and my early 20's I would to turn to writing poetry, rap lyrics and short stories to help clear my head. I think for a lot of people (particularly in that age bracket) writing your feelings down is the best way to realise and come to terms with them. Talking about your feelings usually helps, but it's rarely as easy as that. I haven't written a single piece of poetry since 2008 that I can recall, but I supopse in many ways my blog has replaced them as my new emotional output. My blog helped me come to terms with and prepare for parenthood and all the bumps along the road that goes with it. It still is helping me. For some reason though, this morning I feel like returning to poetry and that's what I'm going to do. I'm going to type as words work their way from the maze in my head and then press publish on this blog post. That's how I work. Editing posts or poems, for me takes the initial honesty from them and my sole intention here is to (hopefully) let it all spill out. And so, I apologise for any grammatical errors in what you are reading...

Sometimes my heart beats fast and my hands won't keep still,

My mind contemplating bad things even though I know that I never will.

A cause seeming lost, the task seeming tall;

Why are they all encompassing if my problems are only small?

Days giving way to dusk, nights passing through the dawn.

Graze away the dust as the light passes on.

I knew why the caged bird sang, so I freed the lark.

Trying hard to shine bright, not give up or be the dark.

Living lost. My mind full and vivid are my thoughts.

No boat to row across, no hand to steer my course.

Choosing to bear this pain alone. A burden from which I've grown...

Into a man unknown; a seed grown in soil left un-sewn.

I search for a brief moment of silence so that I might speak with you in private.

Though we meet and speak with silence, I feel weak and seek your guidance.

My mind holds me hostage, insomnia swallows me whole,

weary eyes keep me prisoner, anxiety holds me down in this hole.

But my family hold the rope, arms out, bags full of hope.

My children hold the maps that navigate these one way streets.

Guide me, I'm lost but looked upon as the navigator;

Holding your hands down the stairs, then running the wrong way back up the escalator.

Sometimes my heart beats fast and my hands won't keep still,

My mind clinging onto only great things, because I know that's my only will.