Paper Pen Poetry
I have always found it to be easier to put pen to paper when I express myself. Hence, poetry for me is a release or a haven depending on how I mean it at the time. For months now, I have mulled over the idea of putting this book together. I have finally attempted to do just that. Putting this book together has become more of a life journey for me because my poems were written at different stages of my life. There are poems about being a daughter, a young bride, a new mother, a college student, a grandmother and, unfortunately, a widow. Some of my poetry might be seen as depressive but these poems are also telling a story of the many detours and dark alleys I encountered and tried to avoid only to end up confronting them as best I could. However, in all of my journeys, I had my poetry. The earliest poem, The Passing of An Indian, I wrote when I was around twelve years old and the latest one, Suffering, I wrote about a month ago. I have not saved all of my poems over the years but this little book contains a collection of many of them. I currently live in Bellevue, Nebraska. I am the mother of five grown children and the grandmother of twelve. Patricia Hamblin
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abandoned houses Alleluia—Alleluia—Bless the Lord believe a lie beloved Breath of Surprise bright called Your name can’t colors Cost A Dime dare dark deeply desperately didn’t dream deferred Due Season earth easier to believe emotions and sadden evoke such strong Existentialism Fall is beckoning feel Fire Brand fireflies flowers Gabrielle Michelle Gavin Micheal glow God’s Going Mad goodbyes green grass grow Happy Anniversary Dear heart hurt iridescent Jamie—shot herself dead Jesus l’ve longer look lt’s marriage Michelle and Gavin mind’s eye mountains never Night Flight Ode To Fire often—in crowds—when oh death Poor Poor Jamie Poor Poor Jamie—shot shine shower shroud silent sit awhile Small Pouch Sometimes I catch soul Soup kitchens stand victim Stop streamline sunset sweet Helena take a seat talk tall tells a story told this pouch touch voice warmth watch We’re We’ve weathered front porches wind won’t words yellow button eyes Yesteryears