Sticks and Stones

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Sticks and stones may break my bones
But words can help alleviate the pain
Sprawling o’er the page I can grumble and complain
About all the terrible things that transpired that day
Or celebrate and praise all the wonders
Of a midafternoon in May
When the leaves are green and the air is swift
And the planes above soar through the clouds
helping to lift
The weight of the pressure
Or the hate of the measure
To which I feel I have to live up to,
Evaporating the burden
Dissipating that wretched black into clouds of smoke.
Maybe I’ll drink or maybe I’ll toke
But the best way to get rid of stress
Is to write the words that I can't quite express
And see the black type unfold
Into the great white rectangle
That shelters from the cold
And the pain
Of loss and helps gain
Back a little bit of strength.
Writing in length
Or writing a short poem
May just be the very best home
I can find when I’m alone
Or just feeling alone.
The words acquaintances
Cheering me with every added vowel
Or syllable or letter and know I'll
Be able to face the tremors
And replace them with treasures,
On a page.





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