Spoken word
I am heard
From paper to presence
Poetry has given me unlimited expression
I am free
Oh how I do love thee

To have no judgements
No expectations
Only speaking from my highest vibrations
I radiate my lungs
I embody every room in which I stand
Taking my audience on my journey with me
From ear to ear
Rather than hand to hand

To have aced every essay
To have read books in the summer
Who knew my calling was to be a poet or an author
No one shows you this is a feasible path
Discouraging you
Saying it’s impractical, unattainable
Only because they’ve never dreamed
of being outside an office or a cubicle
I won’t be naive, I won’t falter
Because for me this dream is anything but impossible

I love the way poetry makes me feel more myself
Every artist can tell you
It’s not for love of money
Not for approval or acceptance
With every note sung, brush stroke, or word spoke
We are emanating our deepest passions

We are the few unafraid to allow our hearts to shine through
To be vulnerable & bare
To conquer our fear of public speaking
Standing alone on this stage
Yet I don’t feel alone
Sharing my truth with others
Yet it’s safe
It feels like home

Cliché to say
But I’m thankful, grateful & blessed
I have found my passion
I withhold love for myself through my writing
& Perhaps call me old fashioned
But there’s nothing more sentimental
Than receiving a hand-written letter
Instead of this new age typing

It’s true paper will always beat rock
Because when my pen hits the paper
I fancy the way the ink glides
The world makes sense again
Writing letter by letter
Mastering my scribe
Curating every sentence
Every stanza
Every story with pride

My thoughts no longer jumbled
I can now see so clearly
I feel weightless
I feel untouchable
It has been my superpower for the world to hear me
Some people want to leave behind money or a legacy
For me—
I will have left my voice, my story

Oh poetry, I love & value thee
Thank you for being a safe place for me

Capturing the true essence of when

The love story began

I smile

Reminiscing on the rhymes

That made me laugh

Easy to create interesting patterns

Some so elementary

Yet so catchy

My words were my power

My emotions needed an outlet

My voice found a safe space

With each line

My love grew fonder

I felt more alive

Whenever I read my words

I was a bit surprised

A master in disguise

My pen was my secret weapon

The words I collectively gathered

Made me aware

That it wasn’t a mere coincidence

Once I started writing

I could never stop

Until I did for a brief period

When my mother passed away

I stumbled on a mental block

My passion had died

Until an angel came to rescue me

Reassuring me that I needed my own words

To revive me

My creativity had never left

I was lusting momentarily

But when my passion

Reminded me that the time was now

I knew that poetry was my true love

It definitely saved me!

You have always been here, haven’t you?
Soft, steady, waiting. Unnoticed but never absent.
You have known the weight of my body when I could not stand,
the nervous tug of sleeves over trembling fingers,
the hush of palms pressed against my chest,
as if you alone could keep my heart from breaking open.

You have held so much.
Tearstained pillows, quiet apologies, the ghosts of things I should have let go.
You have traced the spines of books that felt safer than people,
curled around the warmth of a teacup on nights that felt too long.
You have built and unbuilt—art, letters, love—
each stroke, each press, a silent rebellion against the fear of being forgotten.

And yet, I have not always been kind to you.
I have wrung you in worry, bitten you down to the bone,
clenched you into fists when all you wanted was to open.
I have blamed you for trembling,
when all you were trying to do was hold on.

But you—oh, you.
You never left me.
Even when I abandoned myself,
you turned doorknobs, signed my name, reached for the light.
Even in stillness, you moved. Even in silence, you spoke.

And here you are still,
writing these words,
building, reaching, proof that I have not stopped—
not really, not ever.

So I promise:
I will be gentler with you.
I will unclench, I will open, I will trust.
I will let you rest when you need to and create when you are ready.

You are not just my hands.
You are my history, my resilience,
the proof that I am still here.

And that is enough. That has always been enough.

My Dearest Communication,

From the moment I entered the world, before I could even form a word, you were there. The cries of a newborn, in the touch of a mother’s hand, in the unspoken language of your eyes, you made your presence known. you are not just a tool, not just a method, we are nothing without you. You are the silent force that moves the world, the unseen thread that weaves humanity together.

I have loved you in ways, I cannot describe, yet everytime I try, I realize that even the attempt itself is an act of loving you. You are the reason I exist with purpose, the force that allowsme to takethoughts from the depths of my mind and place them into the hearts of others. You are not just a speech, not just words on a page, you are an action, emotion, existence itself.

Everything I do, everything anyone does, begins and ends with you. A handshake, a glance, a carefully crafted letter, all of it is your expression. Without you, silence is not peace; it is a void. Without you, progress is not possible. What is leadership without words? What is love without expression? What is existence if not the constant exchange of signals, gestures, and messages that define our very nature?

You are not bound by sound, nor by sight, nor by language. You live in the subtlety of a raised eyebrow, in the rhythm of music, inthe blinking lights of technology speaking to one another. Every wave to a friend, every story passed down through generations, every revolution that has ever begun with the words, “enough is enough”, all of it is you.

You are the unseen architect of civilization. Without you, there are no laws, no literature, no connection between minds.

Every invention that has ever changes the world, started with you. A scientist speakes to his ideas before he builds. A writer listens to his soul before he creates. A lover whispers before they embrace. Everything begins with you.

And that is why I love you. Not because you merely exist but because you are existence , itself. You are the greatest power we have ever known.

So, I dedicate my life to you. Not just as a speaker, a writer, a thinker, but as someone who understands that without you, I am nothing.

With All My Heart,

William Joseph

“Always be ready!”
My dad would yell from the stands
Crouch
Step, step
Hover
Clap!
The ball hits the leather
“Striiiike” yells the umpire
It’s like I could taste each out
Before the play was made

Every few pitches I lick my first three fingers on my throwing hand
The dirt grazes my pores as if it was made for me
The perfect solution for a perfect grip, a perfect throw
I wasn’t afraid of germs in the field
It’s like calories around Christmas
They didn’t count

The batter shows bunt
“Up, up, up!” my coaches yell
I creep up
Putting the 14 bones in my face on the line
My mom winces
I run toward it
Slap!
Dead sprint like I’m being chased
I dive and slide head first
Stretched out for the catch
I pop up for the double play
The crowd goes wild

I dreamed of days like this
I still do
Lying sick in a hospital bed
It’s all I wanted
Whether it was the season I was knocking on death’s door
Or the one I blew out my knee I couldn’t play all season
Until the last game of the season
The last of my career

She threw the pitch off the plate
To protect me on that route I had sprinted so many times
“Ball” the umpire calls out
“Time” my coach says as he runs out
Makes a substitution
“Number 17 in for number 11 at third base”
The announcers’ voice booms
I slowly walk off the field
The crowd on their feet
Clapping me in
As if it was God waving me in
Saying, “I’ve got it from here”

How can you not be romantic about baseball?

T’was a crisp and wintry eve, as I sat by the fireplace to craft this divine love letter to thee.
Thou may be INVISIBLE; thy trio be one of a kind.
Free Will; without you in this lifetime, we would never know the SUFFERING and ANGUISH of making a poor decision, nor the JOYOUS BLISS of changing our minds and crossing paths when making BETTER DECISIONS. You are open and welcoming; patient and permissive; universally accepting.
Autonomy; you are fiercely independent and strong in conviction… sometimes flawed and wavering, though confident in depiction of all that you are. What makes you special is your ability to change your state of mind; never feeling stuck, always knowing that change is the only constant, fearlessly transforming at any given moment. You have the gift of shapeshifting into your highest self.
Authenticity; YOU are UNIQUE and GENUINE, there is nothing quite like you. You are the HIGHEST VIBRATION, the secret ingredient to life. I cherish your honesty, integrity, and loving energy. Your beauty is blinding; a translucent, vibrant, colorful soul. You raise me up and connect me to the tree of life.
Free Will, Autonomy, & Authenticity; you transform my bleeding heart and create an energy of passion for life. You level me up to share these gifts with other beautiful souls. YOU ARE MIRACULOUSLY SELFLESS.
With Tender Love,
Janelle M. Comstock

My dearest Music,
Your passion is so evident in your tone and beat. That swagger that brings me the heat. The confidence indicating that you run the show, and the way you encourage me to let go. The freedom and ease when I hear your voice. Your adaptability as you give me the choice. Your raspy slurs as your whisper my name, and your mischievousness as you make your claim. The hold you have when I yearn for more, and the way you caress me when I’m on the floor. You pull my chords and reassure release; You’re patient and fervent and refuse to cease.
See, we have history – you and I. It’s not always been easy, but you always choose me.
Remember I once lost myself in R&B; an important lesson came to be…. My bittersweet destiny. Occasionally, I think of thee.
That time I experienced old-school rap. So street, so hood – I just couldn’t adapt. It was a wrap as unhappiness was all I could see.
I’ve tampered with classical tunes, but the vibes were quickly ruined. Ruined the start before its start, and we quickly grew apart.
Soca had me playing with fire with its familiarity and feelings of home. I couldn’t hold on down to the wire. I was much better off alone.
I really favored smooth jazz. Lights down low, nice and slow. The natural mystic didn’t last. With illusions one never knows.
The thought of country grooves warms my soul. Ballads made from hearts of gold. Slow and methodical, but I needed more so I never quite opened that door.
My fave was when you brought steel pans and that fury I need from the band. Undeniable rhythm when I’m near, that calypso beat is what I crave to hear. It’s in my bones, in my soul, in my blood til I’m old.

Your eclecticism is a combination of all that’s good. The drums, bass, violins & tunes. Piano, melodies, steelpan and moves. Complementary contrasts make the best tunes. As you grow and expand and you venture into infinity, I hope that you’ll continue to choose me.

Forever yours,
Christina

To my journal, 

Thank you for taking me as I am. I write to you everyday, and there’s no theatrics with you. I feel guilty when I write “stronger” thoughts I have in my life, but only you know how strongly I felt them in the moment. It’s only through writing it down do those feelings leave my mind. You hold it all, with no complaints. It’s something I never thanked you for. 

I got you in a Muji store at Times Square. I’d always been a fan of stationary and writing letters, so purchasing you wasn’t a question. I pondered how I would use your pages. I had a plethora of notebooks I had yet to finish, so I had to think about it for a while. I started therapy earlier in the year. Being the type A person I am, my solution for you was to hold my progress and homework. Past journals held my feelings too, but I strayed away from writing negative thoughts. I even taped together the pages that had unsavory emotions. Therapist lady suggested I lean into this, and give myself the freedom to write anything I wanted. Writing my “bad” feelings would not make them more real, but it would allow me to accept and process the world around me. It’s even better that those feelings aren’t taken out on anyone. 

It’s been a while now, and more than half of your pages are filled. From my favorite things in my daily life, to pure spirals of anger. It’s simple to tell the distinction, from my uniform handwriting to the chicken scratch I was too angry to re-write. You’ve seen it all, and you are the only audience that has seen me as such. My goals and deepest fears are on the same page, among things no one else will know about me. But I don’t feel afraid of this vulnerability. You’ve given me a space to be myself, and to slowly let me come to conclusions I was afraid of saying. Like my former philosophy stood, acknowledging something painful would create something I didn’t want to confront. But I’ve learned something through my time with you.

The introspection of my life has always been sincere. The lowest existentialism I’ve felt did exist, and happened often. The joy of feeling seen by my loved ones was real. The pure moments of ecstasy I’ve had partying with friends was real. The bouts of rage and regret were extremely real. But acknowledging all of them didn’t cause them to exist. They were already there, I just didn’t allow myself to accept who I was as a whole. You allowed me to accept who I am, choosing which parts I wanted to grow. And appreciating the parts that always remained. I just didn’t know how to fully appreciate them. Thank you for guiding me through that lesson, I wouldn’t be the person I am now without having you by my side.

All my love,
Mercy

ProWriting Aid Style Score: 86%

I don’t think any thank you is enough for me to tell you how grateful I am that you exist. You’ve cradled me on the nights when I cried over a long-gone ex-boyfriend, fueled my anger and hatred when I went through a friend breakup, and made me feel as light as a feather on the days when I began to fall in love all over again, and never once have you left my side.
And every song I have in my library has its own special story.
I remember the day I really fell in love with you. It was summer 2007 and my family was blasting the radio. Z100, KTU, or something of the sort. What I do remember is Big Girls Don’t Cry by Fergie was at the top of the charts, and my little ears perked up in a way I never experienced before. I waited for that specific song over and over felt such a thrill whenever I heard it on the radio again, as if I struck gold. That was MY song. At least, one of the most important songs that would shape who I am today.
I remember my many phases and changes of life and somehow you always had something to offer me. Whether it was the thrilling smash of an electronic dance music beat in my middle school days, or a sensual bachata beat when I began to love and appreciate my Hispanic heritage a little more, you always had something. There was always something so special about you that I could never pinpoint, but there you were – just waiting to embrace my ears with a myriad of sounds that came together most beautifully.
The truth is, I don’t think I could ever go a day without you. I miss you when you’re gone. I’ve been through many different loves of my life, many different friends, schools, homes, and even feelings that I hate to confront. The one thing that has remained constant is your existence in my life. Even if my feelings and life circumstances are ever changing, you find a way to always be there and for that, I will always love you. No pun intended. I’m so happy there was a musical genius that figured out we could make you after putting a bunch of various sounds together and have it evoke the feelings you do. I don’t know if I could ever thank you enough.
I know one thing remains true, though: you are the one true love of my life. And I hope you know that I will always love you back.

All my love,
Gabby

My Dearest,

Paper to pen, the clock ticks. The deadline is coming, but I must write. I must confess my love,
my love for you.

You see, time is of the essence. I cannot miss this special chance.

Truly, I say to you, I am fond of you.
How deep is my love? They ask.
Is it deeper than the ocean?
Surely, I will look away as my cheeks redden,
Then lift my eyes to heaven with joy.

My love is deep, in that I pray for you.
I pray to see you,
I pray to hear your voice,
I pray for your coming,
I pray for your going.
I pray in gratitude for you.
Always, I pray for you—forever.
That’s how much I—oh yes, I say, I do—love you.

Your voice, no matter the distance, I know it.
I hurry to you swiftly.
Ah yes! How you caught my eyes.
What a lovely sight.

Some days I see you, other days I do not.
Yet, I do not miss you, because I love you.
I know those days will come again.

I love you in every state—
Your toilsome, windful days,
And your graciously calm dances from the heavens above.

I admire your assistance to others.
You provide a hand to that which needs,
You clean that which is dirty,
And you do this not for one, but for anyone.

You are a delight.
You are misunderstood, but I understand.
Though you are cloudy and gloomy,
I see the beauty in you—
I see the rainbows, that blossoms after you.

Oh, rain—yes, you who fall from the heavens—I love you.

Memories of you filter through my mind:
Movies and sandwiches,
Puzzle pieces and jazz hums in the background,
Dancing with you in the chilly, weathery day.

I jump,
I shout,
I giggle,
I laugh, a snorty laugh.

I run to the hill and say,
“My Love For You!”
Oh, how it never ends.

Rain, you reign.
I will never forget you, not one day.
I pray to see you soon,
Even though I saw you yesterday!

Forever yours,
A Lover of Rain

Style Score: 82

Dear Rekindled Passions,

Life has no meaning without you; I’ve spent my time with distractions that have left me unfulfilled.

Searching for the feeling with money, I acquired bills. With you, time has suspended.

One day it’s dancing, then maybe you’ll take me out for pottery. I’m on my toes; sometimes its spontaneous, other days we’re uninspired. Reminding me I can i’m In love with life, but dedication to one thing we can grow into.

What I love most is our creations, listening to ideas and making them become real.

There are no rules other than showing up to be committed.

What I’d like to share with the world is this is for everyone, love that is everlasting. No amount of goals, money, people, or things can take its place.

It’s free fuel that can go for days, passions mend the broken hearts, the emptiness that disguises as hunger, and ground mental anguish.

A priceless love and gift.<3

Permission Slip

Style score 68%

One thing that has never changed is my unconditional love for you. Netflix, Hulu, Max, Peacock, Disney, and whatever other platforms pop up have millions of you to select from and it’s so extensive that the average human takes longer to choose which one of you to watch than actually watch you. 

How do I explain how much you affect my life without ever having to leave my home? You make me upset, happy, hungry, and even devastated. You can make me laugh so hard I sound like a whistling teakettle. You can make the ache in my hands of seeing someone fall apart hurt so much it swells to my heart. You can make me feel like I’m falling in love for the first time, give me an epiphany of what I will become one day, and the possible career I want to pursue one day. 

You make me hate someone so much I would think that a fictional person betrayed me, threatened my family, and intentionally ruined my life. You can make me look at this thing called life in the eye and take on storms and in the next moment make me want to crawl out of my skin seeing blood, violence, torture and all the ugliness in this world. You could turn around and make me realize what’s missing in my life. Is it true friends, a life partner, marriage, kids? 

What else can bring back potent, strong feelings of nostalgia and bring memories within memories, flashbacks within flashbacks? What has a vast history of existing, of advancing over time? What has been a part of history dated as far back as worlds created in black and white? You have created new concepts in this world and have continued origin concepts. 

What are you that you can do all this while I sit in my living room, or in a large dark room with plush seats and goosebumps rising on my arms as the lights are dimming and the screen expands? Nicole Kidman appearing in her expensive shiny silver suit about to transport me into the screen or sitting in a car with the seat reclined making sure the radio is tuned to the right station so the words will follow what the mouths of the characters are saying. 

What can commemorate a first date, a first breakup, making love for the first time, having your first fight, your first memories of your first child or children, of your first loss, of committing to the love of your life, your first fight with your best friend, the last fight with your best friend?

I need to tell you that you’ve been there for me even before I had my first memories on this earth. My mother told me the first time I watched one of your own was the Lion King. The original, animated, colorful, singing hyenas version. She said it was the first time I stayed still in her stomach all day while she sat in a dark room and the large screen played in front of her. 

You are what created the connection to my grandmother. My sweet Abuelita was forced to watch the Lion King every single day at one point, and it made me love her just because of the simple fact that even though she only spoke Spanish and didn’t understand any of the English the animals were speaking, her granddaughter was happy and that was enough for her. 

I remember the first time I saw one of your kind without parental supervision was You Got Served. I was there winning the dance battle with them. I was there when Little Saint died because the young men who were supposed to care about him were too busy being mad at the wrong people. I remember watching Roll Bounce and begging my mom right after watching you to get me roller skates so I can do a triple spin on wheels. 

The relationship I have with my dad was saved because of our mutual love for you. It’s what helped us get to know each other and connect. You have helped me connect with the people I’m close to in my life. The only way I feel like I can thank you is to continue to link my memories to more of you. Thank you for making me cry, happy, sad, and sometimes shed all kinds of tears, making me feel the million forms of happiness that other human beings feel, making me scared, sometimes angry and everything in between. All I can say now is until next time when I get to see you on a screen and for you to always know that I love you. 

Dear 70s Era,

As I reflect on all the things you ushered in, I realize there will never be another era like you in any other lifetime.

I love you for the way you created a pathway for the African American community to thrive in.

You helped define our style and creativity. You allowed us to be our authentic selves.

Passionate, Loud, Black and Proud.
From our unique hand shakes to the textures of our hair that were worn in cornrows, afros, and dreads.

I believe the 70s understood the assignment of equality. There was room for all ethnicities who had different cultural backgrounds.

The 70s brought us all together through Love (God is love).

Yes, hatred and division took jabs, but there were few.

You embraced us, where some who were “not like us” shunned away as if we didn’t belong.

I would be amiss if I didn’t say how much I miss you.

I will always be thankful for the memories.

Style Score 100

Hello, darling –

It was a night filled with shadows hiding around every corner, of which I came and went, and built into the soul I fall into step with every day. I don’t know where I’d be without you, my shadows, my darkness. You built something so profound within me and it is understanding. I understand that, which I would never know if not for you and the trials you pushed and pulled me into. But, you didn’t just kick the bucket and run, you stayed. You decided I was worth waiting through the pirouettes of agony in all I would go through in this life. Light will leave, but darkness never does, for even in the sun, you can still see the shadows. My remarkable darkness, I don’t know how I can thank you for all you’ve given me. Your essence is sewn into every thread of my life’s work, and the impression you’ve made on my view of existence is evident. You’re not something to simply run from, be scared of, no… you are life-giving in your own right. You’ve shown me the worst there is in myself and the likes of others. I found gratitude in the knowing and the honesty. If we aren’t honest with ourselves, who can we be honest with? I’ve whispered some of my worst fears under the veil of night, breath shaking and heart breaking. You stayed. You heard me, saw me, and stayed to comfort a soul worn down by the world that holds it. Darkness always came first even if we tried to ignore it. Don’t you recall, “let there be light”? What would the world be before the light exploded upon it? Darkness. Unadulterated, unfiltered darkness. What a thing it is to see other living things run toward the light, grow toward the light, desire to become one with the light, when the dark offers so much comfort to all that steps into it. You see flowers and branches growing toward the sun while I dance under the moonlight. You’ve offered such a beautiful companionship, my darkness.
There will never be enough time or words to express what you have meant and always will mean to me.

Yours truly and forever,
the vault of which you escaped so epically

Lifting beats and melodies like organized crime
Sifting through grime to illustrate life and times
Lines and rhymes, breaking down enzymes
To wit- meaning to spit, mumblin ain’t shit.
Full of grit: giving and taking some hits.
The message runs deeper than the river Thames.
Dropping their knowledge like precious gems
Giving strength for the struggle, energy for the hustle
Tips for the tussles, all in my car – on shuffle.
Rhythm and Poetry, Rhythm and Poetry

Cruising around the block in my Honda Fit
Regulating soundwaves with old school hits You feel the bass blaring up and down the street.
Music aids my focus, makes life complete.
All day with my headphones on, I’m lost in the beat.
Looking for some paper, gotta find a sheet
To write down some verses and spark that heat
While spitting words uplifting, I’m regifting
Stray ideas sifting; minds been drifting
To rhythm and poetry, rhythm and poetry

To My Greatest Confinement and My Worst Exploration

An intense feeling of deep affection—that’s love. And what I feel for you, my wheelchair, is nothing short of that.

It was love when I was seven, stubbornly insisting on glow-in-the-dark wheels as if that would make you more than what you were. It was love when you got misplaced on my flight to Saudi Arabia, and I sobbed for two hours, feeling lost without you. It was love when my mom told me it was time to let you go, and I resisted, unwilling to part with something that had become an extension of myself.

I can write about anything—grief, longing, fear—but love has always been a struggle. I’ve devoured romance novels, cried through The Notebook, studied love in fiction like it was a science, yet I still fumble with it in my own life. I sabotage relationships, leave at the first sign of trouble, push people away before they get the chance to do it first. But you? You are my constant, the best relationship I have ever known. In a million lifetimes, I could never repay you. And that’s the beautiful thing about love—it doesn’t have to be logical, doesn’t have to be reciprocated or even recognized. It just has to be. It has to exist in this world alongside every other woe.

It’s strange, isn’t it? Loving the very thing that confines me. But you’ve also given me freedom. Every solo trip this past year, every late-night supermarket run, every impulsive decision to roll through unfamiliar streets—you were with me when no one else was. And when I was depressed, you carried that weight too. Two flat tires, chipped black paint, a broken handlebar—you reflected my neglect, my ambivalence, my inability to care for myself, let alone you.

I think about how, for years, walking was my dream, how I measured my worth in steps I could never take. But my dreams have shifted. Now, they are built around the life I live in this chair.

Ten years together, and now, with my thighs pressing into this 26-inch seat, I know it might be time for something new. But before that happens, before you’re replaced or retired, I need you to know: even in the moments I took you for granted, even when I wasn’t always grateful—I loved you.

To the one who knows me intimately, who is always beneath me, always on my ass—this one’s for you.

Dear Peace,
I haven’t known you very well my entire life. I started to get to know you once I entered my forties. As a child, I only knew tolerance and ignorance. I wasn’t aware that people could know peace. Know you. My childhood was filled with emotional neglect, physical abuse, and simply surviving. With the mask of “childhood bliss” that was not truly there. So to not know what you were, meant to walk blindly. I was never celebrated…only tolerated. This went on into my teen hood. The male counterpart was introduced to my life. I allowed several young men into my space. Every last one of them mistreated me. And I kept chasing after them regardless. At my age now, it makes no sense that I’d chase uncomfortable chaos. But I did for many, many years. Before my eyes were opened, I thought that human companionship was the answer to my happiness. But after so many heavy trials, I learned that humans were dangerous to put so much of my love into. And then I found you. ‘Peace’ in English. ‘Shalom’ in Hebrew. ‘Salaam’ in Arabic. It didn’t matter the language. You were what I needed the entire time. I can’t see you, but I can feel you all around me now. I would trade extreme wealth for you peace. My trusted companion that never hurts me and never deserts me. Why? Because I have the choice to have you in my life. Peace costs nothing. So I can be in poverty and still enjoy you. Peace can encompass anything. You are the ultimate wish fulfillment. I’m sorry that I didn’t find you earlier in my life. But you are what makes me know that the timing is OK. I don’t have all of the material things that I desire in life. But you give me contentedness with what I do have. I’ve never loved anything more than I love you peace. You make me smile when my tumultuous circumstances weigh my back down. If I could, I would wrap you up in pastel gift wrapping and give you to every individual in the world. But I cannot. And that’s fine with me. And that’s what having you means. No one can steal you from me unless I allow them to. And I never allow that anymore. You are forever my prized possession. I will hold on firm to you until I leave this life.

Sincerely yours,

My Love for Writing is My Zen

My paper, The pen.
My love for writing is my Zen.
My pen, my paper.
My pencil, my eraser.
My keyboard, my keypad.
The things I do and don’t have.
My thoughts are internal.
My physical and digital journal.
My love for writing is cathartic.
It truly brings me through the hardship.
The blank paper, the pencils led.
My love for writing is my Zen.
The single and double lines.
Writing brings peace in my mind.
Thank you to my loyal friend.
My love for writing is my Zen.