TRUTH AND CONTROL-a poem

TRUTH AND CONTROL
By Sharon Prater-Pope (7-16-12)

Stop the controlling, the manipulating;
The rules and suffocation!

Relax! Listen! Be Present!

Learn compassion, peace, lovliness, awareness.
Feel truth with contentment and ease.
Relationships are fueled by simple beliefs,
Kindness, and loving happiness.

Reteach your heart.
Sense the poet within;
Truth made good.

RESTORATION ( poem)

This is another found poem, which will probably find its way onto a journal page. I LOVE doing these!  Hope you enjoy my efforts. :)

RESTORATION
Sharon Prater-Pope 7/13/12

I found meaning
walking the enormous garden
with an open heart
paths of memory
exquisite monuments
round arches
golden orange light
enclosing darkness
I craved peace
knelt for a time
prayer for restoration
believed


Here is what the original words written on pieces of paper and rearranged to form a poem looks liked glued to a journal page, which is still a WIP. I cropped the poem out of the page.

Tears-a poem

GRIEF TEARS 

Sharon Prater-Pope (4-24-12)

Grief tears flow from my deepest core,
Like a waterfall with no shutoff valve.
For months they erupt from my eyes,
Glide down my cheeks, and drip off my chin,
Crashing onto my chest,
Soaking my blouse.
Memories and loss
Mix with salty water.

No turning off…

Suddenly they stop.
No turning them back on.
The pain of loss still sits in my core,
Etched forever
Like stone carvings under a waterfall,
In the crevices of my heart and mind.
Food and fat layers replace the tears,
Providing a wall of comfort and distance
From the risk of more hurt.

The walls only cause more pain…

Borrowed Things-a poem

BORROWED THINGS

Sharon Prater-Pope (4-29-12)

We own nothing in this life.
Not the next breath.
Not the next heartbeat.
Not our eyes.
Not our thoughts.
Not our time.
Not each other.
Not our children.
Not our families.
Not our friends.
Not our pets.
Not our land.
Not our homes.
Not our cars.
Not our bank accounts.
Not the beds we sleep in.
Not the food we eat.
Not our bodies.
Not our health.
Not our lives.
Not our creativity or talent.
Not our material things.
Not our sentimental things.
Not our memories.
Not the earth…

All on loan to us
For a lifespan,
To use and take care of while we’re here.
To be taken at any moment,
In a heartbeat.

The last breath drawn
Leaves it all behind
For others to use or abuse.
None of it ever really owned,
Only borrowed for a moment.

We go out of life
As we came in.
Naked and alone.
Bringing nothing.

Taking nothing…

Tears Freefalling-poem

TEARS FREEFALLING

Sharon Prater-Pope (4-24-12)

Freefalling tears,

Liquid prayers

Cleansing the soul,

Making way for new growth.

Walls, a Poetic Attempt

WALLS
by Sharon P. Pope

Day by week by year
One by one by one
Words actions pounds
Build walls that hold in
Emotions, anger, pain, resentment,
Disappointments, pride, and fear,
While holding out
Love, life, joy, happiness, inner peace,
And the people we love the most.
        

Tree Ring Life Rings Journal Pages with Poem

More journal pages inspired by Misty's workshop. The life rings are comparable to tree growth rings, which, in my case, are 62 around. Then I needed a poem or story to go with. I don't claim to be a poet, but I gave it a try, and I used a gelatin print background page from another class to write it on with a Pitt pen. I glued the page into the journal with gel medium, transferred the bird from a magazine image onto the page. I need more practice. The transfer didn't turn out as well as I wanted, so I added some pastels and colored pencils to fill in the places that didn't transfer. I also added a couple of small stamps and colored them with colored pencils.

I am pondering adding something to the right upper corner, but I can't think of anything I want to put there. Besides, for now, I like it like it is. :)

The poem is in typed version at the bottom of the post.

The bird is holding a tiny pink heart carefully in his beak. The heart represents my birth and first ring of life. I was born in my Granny's house on a Tennessee riverbank a long time ago, and I've lived near the river my whole life, except for a couple of short periods when I was little.

My life has ebbed and flowed from these river banks for 62 years, just like the water lapping at the shores, every day the same, yet every day different.

Life Rings

By Sharon Prater Pope (Feb. 2012)

Sixty-two ripples

Spreading out from my Clifton riverbank birth rock,

Cast into life with abandon,

Each ripple encompassing

All of the people shuffling in and out through the years,

All that I learn and absorb,

The effect that I have on others,

The effect that they have on me.

Circling ever wider with each passing year,

Receding into the distance

Until I fade into oblivion

And all that remains is a faded memory

And the effect that I had on others

The short time I was here.