Coping, An Attempt at Therapeutic Poetry

Hi friends,

Let me clarify up front that I know I’m not a poet. I have no formal training (obviously), but I’m currently nursing a need to express my frustration. And you? Well, you’re my unlucky audience. At least it’s short and sweet. As with any attempt at poetry, interpretations will vary. You might read this poem as a reference to writer’s block, and that would be a perfectly reasonable guess. I wish it was writer’s block. It’s not even me who’s been misled in the text, however. It’s someone who has to turn toward her own sunrise. I hope she does soon.

 The Sunrise

 I met a red herring today

who tried to lead me astray.

He tickled my ears, compounded my fears,

and confused and clouded my way.

Then turning my eyes to the warming sunrise,

I heard the voices of friends.

I tuned out the cries of Red’s deafening lies

and found my way once again.

 ~The Rookie Writer

 

(Photo compliments of Evgeni Dinev via freedigitalphotos.net).