|Posted on October 6, 2014 at 11:05 AM|
As an empath/psychic medium, I have always had the ability to very easily (and sometimes involuntarily!) "put myself in their [others'] shoes," so-to-speak... With my poetry, I convey certain things in a way which enables me to be creative with words. I've been a poet since I could write, and I've been empathic/psychic probably since I was born. It just makes sense to combine the two.
Here are some poems told from the POV of OTHERS. In some cases, they spoke through me; in others, my guides are talking; in some, I am using my abilities to feel the situation first-hand.
Scholastically, these are not my best poems, but they certainly are some of my favorites. These poems are, in a sense, enabling the others (spirits) and myself to convey something - a snapshot image? a message? a declaration? a confession? a plea for help? - to the rest of the world.
I took the coins, gripped and hidden
in a tiny pocket
near my loins as I ran...thinking
"We must eat we must eat we must eat."
I was only twelve. Hungry. Dirty.
for Mother and Ginny.
Gold glistened when I turned
the discs in my hands;
Ginny listened, trying her best
to understand. She was just
five years old -
Skinny and pale, sullen and cold...
Mother looked older than her
Wrinkles, cracks, grey-hairs
Tears in her eyes as I
My son is gone. My son my son my son is gone. There is no God; no God I know
would take my son. No God I know would allow this war. Where
is God? God is gone - He doesn't care. I'm so angry at Him!
MY SON MY SON MY SON MY SON MY ONLY SON!
M Y O N L Y S O N !
He was too young. How dare You? How dare You take my only son?
He was too young. He was too young.
My only son. My only son, Caroline...He was too young.
OLD MAN WITH THE WHITE BEARD
You think me wizard, you think me Mage,
I am a guardian of the gate. I sit and wait
As judge and jury - I am the final step in
Your Fate. Come to me pure, or turned
Away you shall be; I foresee nothing; your
Free Will allows you good or ill.
Choose carefully your path to me.