I can't tell you how much I'd like
To write a poem of light
And joy. Not a dirge of dispair
Where I air
My dirty laundry of care
And woe.
I want to show all who read
I am indeed
A woman of great joy. I refuse
To succomb to who confuse
Words of rhyme or reduce
Verse to tears.
I need to read more words
Of happiness and bright blue birds
And butterflies. I tried
Haiku at the start of my joyride
Into a world of wordsmiths who plied
Their talent.
I've learned words and rhythm
Can be more than awesome
And carefree. They can be math,
Song, imagery, and not just a bloodbath
Of tears and fears, but a path
To joy.

To write a poem of light
And joy. Not a dirge of dispair
Where I air
My dirty laundry of care
And woe.
I want to show all who read
I am indeed
A woman of great joy. I refuse
To succomb to who confuse
Words of rhyme or reduce
Verse to tears.
I need to read more words
Of happiness and bright blue birds
And butterflies. I tried
Haiku at the start of my joyride
Into a world of wordsmiths who plied
Their talent.
I've learned words and rhythm
Can be more than awesome
And carefree. They can be math,
Song, imagery, and not just a bloodbath
Of tears and fears, but a path
To joy.
