LauraSue is a Mother, Award Winning Poet and Artist who was born in Suburbia New York and now resides in Pennsylvania. She has been writing Poetry since the early age of nine. Over the years of her life she has developed not only a great love for Poetry, but also a great respect for the expressions of other Poets.
Poems have been published globally in several anthologies dating back to the
90’s. Her New Poetry Book Spilled Feelings is available at Fine Book Stores everywhere.
Oh . . . and by the way . . . my favorite color is Purple . . .
03 First Spring Day.mp3
Dreamers, yes we are, whether we are willing to admit it or not. William S. Peters, Sr. has captured the heart of every little girl that still resides within every grown woman. As young ladies growing up we were fed ideas of the “perfect” woman and how we should strive to be her. We were convinced to forget about prince charming and told to find Mr. Practical Provider. Then life hit us in the gut and stole our breath and dreams away; and we believed the lies we were told. But he is out there waiting for us, understanding the reality that life may have roughed us up some. Prince Charming does exist and he is waiting with an open mind, an open heart, and open arms. Believe again! Embrace your dreams once again and believe that fairy tales do indeed come true!
they do come true
yes she had a dream
his intent was not to deflower her
for he realized
in the sight of the world
had long been lost
her countenance was soiled
by the doctrines and beliefs
she had embraced
as her truth
she had accepted the definitions
of her boundaries
as told to her by her Mother,
Siblings, Friends and Associates,
and it never crossed her mind
that there were alternatives
of her own choosing
damn, she could even create them
no, he could no consider such a thing
for the thing to be considered
did not exist . . .
but what did exist
in some realm of possibility
was the certainty
that he could reseed
her lovely garden of potentiality
and that was his quest
her best was yet
to be discovered
and his holy test
was to uncover
that of her own
so that the seeds to be sown
in her virginistic soils
this would soon become known
to the world
as her became the progenitor
to herald in change
amongst her selective perspectives
he had a plan
he wanted to see her Soul smile
a mile wide
as he furthered
yes, they would journey
beyond the definitions
beyond the fences
of the way things appear
he would teach her
to let go her fears
and to get her
'right minded' thinking
back in gear
as it was when they were children
this seemed like
so long ago
when we sang this song
of freedom . . .
but it was just yesterday
when one considers
that which is eternal
nay, he would not deflower her
but he would remove
all the thorns
from the roses of her beliefs
that she may find the relief
to those who dream
of Prince Charmings
and other fairy tales
can you smell the dream ?
they do come true
Written by: william s. peters, sr. (c) 29 October 2013
a note from LauraSue . . .
“You see, I am a poet, and not quite right in the head, darling. It’s only that.”
~Edna St. Vincent Millay
A poet is a special sort of creature. Over flowing with literary knowledge, worldly knowledge, and well versed in affairs of the heart. To those who know us intimately we may seem to be bordering on intellectual madness and for those who just casually pass us by, we may seem interestingly eccentric. But the truth is no one knows what a poet knows. The way we view our surroundings, the way we feel, and the way words whisper constantly in our heads is virtually inexplicable. When we were children we may have dreamt of being astronauts or ballerinas but in our maturing years we could dream of nothing but living the life of a writer. Yes, being poets, we might be on the verge of insanity but once we divulge our secret knowledge to the world we inform minds and open thoughts. I could dream of being nothing else. Embrace your inner poet and the madness that accompanies it, for we are the dreamers of the world.
This poem by Stuart Marshall describes the inner chanting of a poets mind. Thoughts that swirl around and beg to be put to paper. This is a supreme example of how the poet views the world and refuses to succumb to the mad monotony of a “normal” life. For a poet there is no such thing as “normal”. Our outlook is distorted until it becomes plainly clear that we are the ones that must awaken the sleeping masses to the truth of life. We MUST write or else we would truly go insane. We are the ones who dare to reveal ourselves when most people hide their inner most secret thoughts for fear that the world may view them differently because they have spoken of dreams and truth. We write our lives.
I Write My Life
I write my life in better in worse
in curse the chant the same
the words an evil tongue
understood only by those who value
jealousy and hate who debate ways
and ways to drive others to negative ends
so their ends won’t singe and burn from
their world empty, filled only with the
air of lonely pursuits tightly woven
into the gloomiest of cloth
to be worn till the end of days
dark with a sheath that shews clearly
I write my life in poetry and verse
a hearse, a nurse at bedside
caring ills with the pills of word
letters arranging and rearranging
settling down after a spasm or two
calming after a page, the line that bends
nearly breaking in two, flexing just in time
for the internal rhyme that soothes to a smile
and a blinking away of tears
I write my life
the life I've come to have
after a life, a soul no goal
then a turn and a turn and another turn
and a burn that opens the eyes at once
and changes what's there that must be changed
and soon and now and the way it is
torn and twisted...shaken...mistaken
for someone and someone else’s
but I know of no one else
that I've become and choose to be
no other else but me
they try to change what cannot be
changed and fail and try and fail again
then organize and plan once more
try to land flat on the floor
I write my life
and they write theirs
no brutal lines but constant fines
a dull shine they look upon as gold
a goal not worth the price
and twice and more they try, they try
to a futile cry both by and by
and why, the question still the same
they will not say because the shame
they will not pray away the shame
and so it stays...
and so I write...
Written by: stuartirvingmarshall (c) 2013
Stuart Marshall is one of our Top 10 entrants in Janet P. Caldwell’s Essay Contest underwritten by Inner Child Press.
As poets we hold our thoughts sacred. We will expose our deepest thoughts so as to open the eyes of the blind ones but do not covet our words. Christena (Antonia Valaire) Williams writes a superb poem here defending the originality of our words. You may enjoy and identify with our expressions but please do not offend us by taking words that are not yours because you find them beautifully spoken. We have big hearts and are willing to share our feelings with you but please give credit where credit is deserved, do not hijack our words and make it seem as though this was your original thought. We, as poets, have been endowed with a gift and wish to share that gift with others, please respect our talents.
Don’t copy and paste
Don’t copy my writes but be inspired by them
Let your fingers do the pasting of your mind’s thought
It’s beautiful to see a part of me everywhere I turn
Pages of poems
But it’s not my signature
Presumable it would seems as a stolen property
So don’t copy and paste unless it’s your originality
I am a black lioness representing my nationality
In poetry I display my loyalty
I stay focus and conscious and I don’t condone illegality
My writings are the manifestations of my spirituality
And out of Jah The almighty my creativity is shown
My intentions are not just to be known
But To inspire and fulfill my destiny
That is prophecy by the sages and prophets before I.
Written by: Christena Antonia Valaire Williams, (c) 6/05/13
I am a poet who writes directly from my life experience and I have plenty of material. But I always try to end on a positive note. I have been through hell and back, and I have the scars to prove it. However, one day I made the choice to re-awaken my inner-child, to throw away the lies I had been told, and to find my own way in life. I shook of the nightmares and reclaimed my dreams. I am living proof that you can be a survivor. We all have our stories to tell, we all have baggage, and tragedies but that is not the end. There is a little child inside that wants us to come back, to remember our dreams, and to look clearly once again upon the world. We are the authors of our destiny and our story is still waiting to be written. Release the shame, look into the mirror, and smile that beautiful smile that the world is longing to see.
New Day Dawning
I mourn for a childhood lost.
I mourn for my stolen innocence.
Growing up in such a way
Clouded my judgment, made me jaded
And led to a series of poor choices.
I poured my pain into the bottom of every
I erased each memory with little pills.
Living the ideal life of ultimate party girl.
I ended up becoming the very thing I was
Looking in the mirror
I despised the girl I saw there.
I could no longer face myself.
That is the day I awoke from my nightmare.
I emptied the bottles
I flushed the pills
I gathered my inner-child in my arms
And began a new life.
The shadows still attempt to overcome me
Tugging at the edges of my mind
But I have learned how to defeat them.
They no longer consume me.
I have reclaimed my dignity.
I have walked through the rubble of my broken life
And walked into a glorious sunrise
of a brand new world
For once, when I look in the mirror
I can actually see me looking back at me
And I smile.
Written by: LauraSue Gutierrez-Simmons. (c) 10/14/13
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healing through words