My Way Of


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I Still Matter

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©  Pat A. Fleming   I'M STILL HERE My looks are nothing special, My face reveals my age, My body shows some wear and tear, And my energy's not the same. Too often my memory fails me, And I lose things all the time. One minute I know what I plan to do, And the next it may just slip my mind. I try hard to avoid my mirror. There are things I would rather not see, And even those times when I just catch a glimpse, I can no longer recognize me. The things I used to do with ease Can now cause aches and pains, And the quality of the things I do Will never be quite the same. I always compare my older self To those younger versions of me, And I know I'm wasting too much time Missing who I used to be. But the thing that really makes me sad Is despite what people see, Underneath my tattered, worn out shell, I'm still the same old me. My heart can still feel endless love, And at times it still can ache. My heart can fill with so much joy, And then it can suddenly break. My soul can ...
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Changing Faces

Hi, I have always really loved writing and this is one of the poems I wrote about a story I read in a newspaper. It shows how life is hard and changes and many people lose their way in their path to find peace. Thank you and I hope you enjoy it. Under a democratic shield, Beneath the enticing charm, Lies an autocratic exterior, Revealing cursed ideas, cruelty and harm. In a coalescence of evil, Where the good man stands alone, And evil pierces a man's heart, His true integrity, never shown. And she, full of mesmerizing beauty, A dutiful, dependable dove, With a heart as the moist as the allure, Within the man who licked away her love. The letter she adored, As his plan began to mould, But she never glanced behind the curtains, Where the man watched beneath the subtle folds. Persuasion was her tactic, Persuasion was her key, As she strode off into the world, To find out what awaited thee. But the villain grew weary, His heart had lost its evil hilt, As ...
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POETRY

Poem written to inspire none Poem lovers I don't write poetry I sweat poetry I drink poetry I breathe poetry I make love to poetry I fight poetry I bleed poetry I once tripped over poetry Got angry and kicked poetry I live poetry For I am poetry I do not write poetry Poetry writes me.
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