It's Time....

by Maple Tree   Feb 15, 2016

As I search through, all that remains
a violence flows within my veins
withered letters, shattered tears
broken promises through the years.

I wasn't born to rhyme my thoughts
visions of darkness tied in knots
I speak only in polished words
singing lyrics, smoking herbs.

Music, free form became my elixir
added with magic, a poetic mixture
but then one night I heard someone say
"a coward drowns in truth this way".

A dweller of darkness, blankets fear
these notions have become quite clear
for I was nothing more than a freak
fearful of others harsh critique.

I brewed hatred with lies, deceit
two bit hustler, loner, a cheat
standing alone under a Kansas moon
eating Ramon from a rusty spoon.

I made a promise to the stars
needed to stop living life behind bars
a prison I created within my own soul
I knew I had to complete this goal.

Travelling east I found a bed
to rest my bones, weary head
shedding darkness left behind
buried shadows I designed.

Those who know me understand
writing this poem was never planned
been aching me for years on end
unmasking skeletons yearning to be penned.

I've grown stronger as my mirror reflects
my days are precious, less complex
but these chains were killing the true essence of me
allowing the truth to set me free.


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Latest Comments

  • 2 years ago

    by Brenda

    Andrea, as always, nailed it! Rhyming can be extremely difficult but you've achieved that and a very telling insight to you-beautiful!

  • 2 years ago

    by Ben Pickard


    As per the other comments, "I wasn't born to rhyme" strikes me as moderately absurd here considering you have penned a wonderful rhyming poem!
    What I love about this is that you have managed to weave your delicacy and talent for description with very good rhyme indeed.
    There are a couple of lines that I would change to better the flow, but that is only my opinion.
    I think "Travelling east I found a bed to rest my bones, weary head" would read better as "Travelling east I found a bed to rest my bones and weary head" or "my weary head".
    I am nit picking though, because this is a brave and wonderful write and proves why you are hands down one of the best writers on this site.
    All the very best,

  • 2 years ago

    by Dagmar Wilson

    "I wasn't born to rhyme my thoughts" this is a piece with perfect rhyming. At times especially when we feel lonely we take an inventory and look back. We all have a past and there is a few hidden skeleton somewhere. Sometimes we physically move away from it as far as possible but it will follow us. The truth shall set us free. There is only a few who truly knows us they understand that the aching pain that comes with it. You write any way you want to, you live your life and remain true to yourself. It does not matter what others think. This write hit the nail. Awesome.

  • 2 years ago

    by - Mr. Darcy

    Hello Andrea,

    it is time to scoff...

    'I wasn't born to rhyme'
    After reading your 'rhymed' poem I somehow am in disbelief! lol You have rhymed as if it was in your veins and not the 'violence' you speak of. Having said this I can relate to the frustration at not being accepted for what style we choose to write in.

    I speak only in polished words
    singing lyrics, smoking herbs.
    Here too, I will deliberate over words for hours at a time. Restricting these words to ones that fit seems too restrictive. Yes, it is possible, but at what cost? Writing fewer poems, writing poems which somehow loose their original meaning?
    I like the last line too. I like the imagery the hazy lady singing to her favourite song perhaps?

    I brewed hatred with lies, deceit
    two bit hustler, loner, a cheat
    standing alone under a Kansas moon
    eating Ramon from a rusty spoon.
    This is perhaps the highlight for me. The hot point where the poem pivots on a precipice: I absolutely love the concept that 'hatred' is built up with self damnation, inner 'deceit' and 'lies'. We do this to try and fit in don't we? We try to mold ourselves to conform. Where does this get us though...The 2nd line, the feeling of loneliness and being untrue to the one person we should be true to: The person looking back from the mirror.
    The last two lines create a picture for sure. The moon, Kansas, loneliness. Now, the 'Ramon' part stumped me. I researched, it is Spanish in origin, it can mean a few things, some of them 'wise protection, counsel, and my favourite, 'protective hands'. Adding this to 'rusty spoon' seems to contrast the former? Maybe abusing a sterling education by writing with a crayon perhaps. I would love for you to PM me with your meaning. :O)

    Anyway, from this point on the Caterpillar becomes a butterfly...

    Flying 'East' to leave a former life, town and settle down and become the person buried deep inside: the real you.

    This revelation is perhaps more significant to the writer than 'those who know...'

    When all said and done, who should we answer to? Our family, our God or our reflection. My answer is the latter. When we can look at ourselves and know we are being true; our families, our God will accept us completely and with open arms. As you rightly say '...the truth to set me free'

    Andrea, this is a superb and honest write. You have clearly revealed and opened up in a way you have needed to. I am sure this has and will help that reflection become crystal clear.

    Take care,