STACIA LYNN REYNOLDS

STACIA LYNN REYNOLDS

THE POET’S WORDS

She writes with passion.

She writes with fear.

The drying ink explodes with tears

Upon the page

As her words pour

From deep within.

Her heart cries…

Her soul aches…

As her words are drawn

On a blank white page.

Expressions not found

In vocal utterances,

But flowing through

Her pen’s black ink-

A hue she prefers to visually see,

As she writes

Her thoughts upon

The canvas of emotion

Her journey’s trials

As they move on.

Her pen:

Composing her symphony of thought…

A psychosomatic therapy.

The tool within her hand.

The grasp is firm.

A natural place,

As she writes her words

So full of grace.

Unlike her heart,

Which tends to race.

It is her peace

Through her seasons-

Seasons of sorrow

Seasons of joy

Seasons of peace-

Times that explore

Passion and fear

Within her soul.

Her pen releases

Thoughts hidden deep

In different planes

At various times-

Six in the morning

Noon

Or at night

Written on pages

Is her journey’s plight.

With words that resound

With passion or tears

One may understand

Her walk through the years-

When her trial awakes

Or when she puts them to sleep

Either or

They are hidden deep.

No one may see,

Looking outward

Read between the lines,

She’s very forward.

It is the art,

Of emotional release

The passion…

The tears…

Of her words; She finds

Her inner peace.

©Stacia Lynn Reynolds

INNER GAIN

Looking forward, to the day

Holding hands, a warm embrace

Breaking clouds dark n’ grim

A glowing light from within.

Our ships have sailed on rocky seas

Stormy gales, seemed no relieve

Upon life’s journey of broken hearts

Open wounds, n’ ripped apart

Torment replacing love once shown

Leaving emptiness, alone and torn.

The sun rises, with warm regard

Upon two souls who’ve struggled hard

To keep afloat during rocky times

Inner strength, together will find

Companionship rooted deep

Due connection, treasured to keep

Mutual admiration found

Deeper than skin, and soul bound.

Wounds turn to scars, which will remain

A reminder to strive toward inner gain.

©Stacia Lynn Reynolds

THE MIND OF THE LOST WRITER

Encamped by memories

Hurt and pain

Is to torture one’s mind.

A mind of thought…

Once beautiful visions of hope

Pray does not die

In the constant cloud inside

In a dark repose.

Ravenous- Clouds

That circle within

Is it time to die?

Fight to win- To strive

To create, is the plane of hope

That shines down, upon

The heart that is lost

In an unknown world’s post

To seek-

To define the moment

To write what was lost

To live

And be divine, is

The striving power inside.

©

Stacia

Lynn Reynolds