Words Go Down Upon The Page

Recently, poetry has been coming out of the pen.  Why is it that poetry comes when the heart and soul are in such turmoil there is almost physical pain?  Once a poem comes forth, the pain seems to decrease some … a little … a bit.

Writing poetry is more like giving birth than writing a novel, short story, essay, etc., to me.  Does anyone else feel the same?

About Henrietta Handy

I have returned home to the mountains. No more am I "a mountain-girl far from home." Diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis at 2 1/2, I understand pain, fatigue, laughter, joy, and love all while on crutches and in wheelchairs. This blog is just about me, mostly the writing side, but there are forays into so many different topics. I am married to a wonderful husband who puts up with my writing, knitting, yarn, with the love of a saint. We have fur babies, and one cat who rules us all.
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