Poetry is a dying art, and is trying hard to overcome the cracks in the sidewalk. I keep trying to bring it out, to let everybody know about this great way to express yourself. It doesn’t even have to ryhme…

I was somewhat successful when I started a poetry club in my area. I started in 2004, and we are still going strong. We haven’t really gotten alot of new members, but they are the greatest set of people that I could have ever met. We do alot of our reading at an area nursing home, and the residents just adore us.  They even ask for copies of our poems..

Recently, I tried to have a poetry contest for children.  One school just basically gave up and didn’t cooperate like promised……  I had 2 entries from 2 very talented young girls from a  summer reading program at a nearby library….But just two…

I don’t want people to be scared or intimidated by poetry-I just want them to feel it—see it—hear it..

Poetry allows people to express whats going on from the inside-You don’t have to be a perfect writer.  Just pretend your poem is your diary or journal, and let loose.  There are no rules to free writing poetry.  Forget those Haikus, and all of those other styles-

Poetry is YOU-  Poetry is from the heart.  Poetry is REAL

Afterall—poetry break all of the rules

So just to try—just once. Grab a piece of paper and write what you are feeling.   Did your spouse make you mad? Was that storm scary?  Are you worried about the economy and your money? Aren’t you just plain sick of those gas prices? Are the children driving you nuts?…  Don’t you just love watching your child sleep?

Write about it–you just might be surprised what comes out.

The hidden meaning of dreams….
They often keep us up a night,
Making us wonder what they mean.

All alone, trapped in a dark damp room.
Continuous falling, and falling…
Wondering if we are going to end in doom.

Waking up in a cold sweat,
Out of breath,
And scared to death.

Images that look and feel so real
Those days, weeks, maybe months that go by
Because dreams keep us up at night
And our mind is at fright.

Dreams are thoughts beyond our imagination,
Somehow mixed in with the events of the day,
They are a part of life,
And could explain, the ways our lives will play

Forever one, they shall be the mystery
That lives on….
And one day, we may never know the real meaning of them…
Until we are gone.

The flash of lights
The children running around,
Scared and in fright.

Loud crashes of the night,
As the angels make their strike down the alleys.
Fireworks play within the clouds,
With each strike and glimmer…

Rain pours from the sky
Pattering on rooftops, buildings, and flooding the lands.
The night is a light show,
With plenty of amplified sound effects.

The darkness spreads through the clouds above,
While the people down below, take cover and shelter,
Hiding from the wakened monster of the evening…

Booms and lights continue to carry on,
While the scared people wonder when this war will be finally be done.

The rain begins to slow…pitter patter, tiring from the evil downpour
Darkness begins to fade, as the warrior clouds begin to push on through…

Streaks of light peak through the evening,
As the sun reveals that there is hope once again.

Birds begin to chirp their songs as a cool breeze sweeps in,
Children peak out from under their beds, and step out onto the porch,
And begin to play

All is okay once again,
As the sun begins to set in the hills,
Waving goodbye to another day.