A Poet of Many Words

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Edwin Tracy Hoover
5 years ago
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1 Note from Poet

2 When I was a young girl around the age of twelve, a movie hit the screens big time in which like all my friends, I wanted to see this movie. The movie was called The Outsiders. While seeing the movie, for the first time, is when I first heard of Robert Frost. In the scene where Ponyboy Curtis repeated Frost s poem, Nothing Gold Can Stay to Johnny outside of the abandoned church. That poem has stuck with me from that day forward; Frost and his words are why I write today. However, Robert Frost is not the only inspiration I have found since then, the list of poets could fill this book alone. I do feel as if I do need to mention one more. In fact, this poet, Emily Dickinson, was never known until after her death. I, myself can see this happening to many of us who write poetry. Some make it and some don t. * Emily I hold my master s idol, Small and petite, with a ray of different colors, A picture of Emily and yellow is my cover, Full of beautiful words, that was written so many years ago, My pages have been read, just a time or two, My master takes me everywhere she goes, I fit into her coat pocket, on cold winter days, My words are like food, to my master s soul As she dwells into thought, I am comforted to her heart, So as I hold my master s idol in between my pages I am nothing more, nor nothing less, Then a pocket book of poems, by Emily. *

3 Introduction:

4 Poetry the sweet sounds of its words, the imagery, the rhyme, the rhythm, the poet itself all blends into the harmony of the universe. Poetry is an art form on which opens the mind of the poet and reader with a strong connection to what is. I try to manipulate my reader into feeling what is and what I am drawing. If I accomplish this then my job is done and I move onto my next drawing of words. Each word I use must represent the what is, the how is and the objective of. To be the poet, one must be the poem to be able to connect with their readers, if one cannot be the poet nor the poem, then it s not poetry. When I write or read poetry, I must be able to feel some type of explosion in my veins, like what I would imagine a bullet would feel like, then I know it s good. When I don t feel this explosion, then it must not be, at least not poetry. Poetry is all just a formation of art made from words that trickle down from the poet s mind to create a masterpiece of emotions. A Poet of Many Words Frustration boils when pen and paper don't meet Anger settles in the veins Darkness fills the soul Why? Why? Why? Do they not see I need just pen and paper to please me, nothing more Just fancy words entwine my soul Kneeling at the altar Busting my world into pieces as the sweet sounds Of rhythm and rhyme Oh hell, I am just a poet of many words! *

5 Opening Poem: As I Sit In Silence

6 As I sit, in silence, With just my soul, I can see the present, More so, than ever before I feel as if I was just born, Unto the mother s breast All fresh and new, Wrapped in pink, The unconscious mind, Like a canvas, I paint my life, Wiping away the pain, The tears that have fallen in the past, Is no less, then my healing heart? As if to say with each tear shed, That my destiny has landed in my hands, A whole universe that now accepts me For who I am! *

7 Acknowledgment:

8 I have been writing poetry for a long time and self-published all my work. Lessons that I have learned while traveling this road are too many to list, but I do want to take the time to list a few lessons and the names of some very special people in my life. The first lesson I have learned is that it does not matter what or how I write as long as I am proud with the end masterpiece the art of words. What matters is that I am doing this for me and that I am enjoying myself while doing it. Once that stops, then I know I have lost the passion for writing poetry. I have lost that passion too many times for every wrong reason there is, even today as I write this I ask myself, each morning, what kind of inspiration can I find today that will help me still feel the passion for writing my daily dose of poetry? Here is where I need to thank my kids, KayCee K, Natasha, November Dawn, Mitch, and Hayden. Each one of you, some way or somehow has helped me pick myself up. KayCee K, with you being my biggest fan and supporter in making my dreams come true. Natasha, you gave me the strength to wake up each morning and to keep strong on the bad days of self-doubt. November Dawn, you may reign in heaven but I know you are sitting there each morning at my computer cheering me on and giving me hope that someday I will make it. Mitch, you have always been a mama's boy, but I thank you for pushing me to be successful and helping me have the moments I need to write by being such a great big brother to Hayden. Hayden, you are my drive behind everything I do. When I look into your eyes, I see your pain and struggle with Autism and how hard it is on some days. And how you give me the strength by showing me how strong you are to accept things the way they are. Your compassion for life over exceeds my own, the way your eyes shine when you learn something new to feeling sad for a stranger that is dying from cancer, you are so amazing to me. Each of you inspires me to write, to love and to live my life the way I have always dreamed of; with my life being so full of happiness, peace, and hope. My second lesson would be faith and hope. Without faith and hope, I would not be here publishing another book. I have faith that someday my work will be more noticed in the poetry community and that I will be known for the heartbreaking and heart-touching poetry I have written. I also have hope that my audience will continue to grow and that I will reach my dreams and beyond. I know I can do this. And for this, I need to thank some really close friends that I have stood by me. Momma Sue, it s been 30 years of friendship and love between us. If it wasn't for you I would be lost in this big world. I love you! You took over after Mom died

9 and stood by my side even when you didn't agree with what I was doing at the moment, you would still encourage me, give me strength and give me hope and lots of laughter have been shared between us over the years. I would like to thank my ex-husband for granting the divorce and setting my soul free to find my way in life. Without this event happening within the last five years, I would still be nothing more than just a dark shadow in a dark room because that is how he allowed me to live. I am thankful for each mistreatment, harsh words, resentment and anger that built between us over 21 years because if it wasn t for it I would not have had the strength it has given me to walk away and start my life over without him. I would also like to thank the past poets and some of the today s best poets that inspire me to chase this crazy dream, you may all have succeeded more than I ever will, but that is why I draw my pen to paper each day and write; is because of you. Lastly, I would like to thank my Spiritual Mother that reigns above me and gives me the inner power and strength to face each day with a new what is. As we come together each time I meditate, I seek your guidance, your love, and passion, in return, you have taught me how to silence my mind, body, and soul and to open my intuition up and to really listen to what my soul is saying, thank you!

10 Just Broken

11 Just Broken Gasping air, racing heartbeat, My mind is racing as if I was losing Every minute, second and hour of life Vaporizing away, indulge into darkness My body shivers & shakes wants to lunge But it's frozen as if I emerged In a deep frozen lake, with no one to Rescue me, I lie, gasping air, racing heartbeat...this is my enemy, Anxiety Some days are better than other, Some nights are harder than most, I awake to the beaming bright light of dawn, Only to feel a five second rush of happiness, before I go twirling, twisting, Plunging down, as if that is all The world will let me have, just 5 seconds of happiness before my hero takes hold... This is my Depression It hurts to move, to just raise my pen To write, may be the death of me My body is broken, cold, and lonely, As if it was vanishing into the depths of hatred, Killing the pain with one fight left, Drains every inch of energy in my soul, As I kneel to pray, I ask for the pain to stay, just one more love-making scene For my Pain is my lover! *

12 Dedication:

13 To no one, Just life this time And to the music that plays, The lyrics that are sung, And the poems that are written. *

14 Phases

15 Phase one, in the beginning, a new change upon me, I was scared, didn t know what to expect, I was unsure what I would find, Deep within my soul, Would all I find was anger! Would all I find was loneliness! Would all I find was a corrupt mind! Phase two, half way through, the second change upon me, As I learn to sketch my life, the thin shaking lines, of insecurities, Still unsure, what was happening to me, As I see the outline grow darker and I can see my life more in detail, Why do I feel so free! Why do I feel as if I am reborn! Why do I feel as if I have won the war! Phase three, almost completed, the canvas of my heart, Not scare, just content, no longer unsure, just happy I am painting my life upon my canvased heart, The one that was broken, battered and bruised, I feel so alive! I feel so loved! I feel so new! For I have surrendered to the light, Of Emotional Freedom! *

16 Here I Stand

17 Here I stand among your gifts, Your spirit lightens my soul, Even if my heart is null, Compared to your compassion for my soul, Nothing is null, Nothing compares to your power, You have the right to choose either life or death, And I thank you for the life you have given me *

18 The Storm

19 The chill in the air hits me like a brick, As I look around all I can see is the lowering of the curtain of clouds, I shiver and shake, trying to brush the wind away, The wind swirling the clouds as if to suffocate me, With their beauty and kisses from the dead. *

20 Deepest

21 The darkest hour of the night, Tingling sensation as I pray to the holy might, That these deepest secrets will remain on high, In the sweet lullaby, Of cherished sigh, Wonder if I will die, Before the morning light. *

To No One. Just the words. That fell from. My soul. Onto the screen. With a touch. Of Tequila River Brew

To No One. Just the words. That fell from. My soul. Onto the screen. With a touch. Of Tequila River Brew Dedication To No One Just the words That fell from My soul Onto the screen With a touch Of Tequila River Brew Forward I would like to take a moment and thank a few people here in the beginning of this