Poetry

Oh how

mywords2228
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Photo by Vlada Karpovich: https://www.pexels.com/photo/a-girl-standing-at-the-table-7031623/

It was easy to create so freely as a child.

Now, so many emotions and things get in the way that art becomes complex.

Making it easier to come up with excuses like why you don’t have the time or I’m too tired to get the supplies out to create.

And so the canva sits empty and uninspired waiting for you to get up and create an imperfect piece of art.

To lose yourself as your fingers go this way and that way, creating something abstract but still art.

To listen to the very thing calling you to create, and you taking the time to do it.

Creating art for you sometimes feels like taking a breath and genuinely allowing yourself to be alive, free, and in your most authentic form.

Written By: Deirdre Stokes Copyrighted ©️ 2025 By Deirdre Stokes

Published by mywords2228

Love writing poetry and reading tons of books. I also write short fiction stories and hope to include them on my page soon; I hope you enjoy my work, and thanks for stopping by my page.

1 thought on “Oh how”

  1. cm writes – Joplin, MO – A lifelong desire of mine has been to write. As a child I wrote, even though it needed some pizzazz; but as a child, my abilities were very limited as you can imagine. Every person has much to learn, and I did that along the road to adulthood. I sure wish I kept them so I could us them for other posts. Fool that I am, I destroyed them. There were diaries through childhood abuse, tossed out. I guess that they served their purpose. Diaries I also kept through 2 abusive marriages and where are they now? They have all been destroyed, but yet I love to write. I guess that I didn't see any reason to keep them at the time, but as I write now, I can see the true value of them, precious. Here it is, the year 2025, and I stand transformed—a woman who has found her own voice and risen above the events that once shaped her. They have not defined me; instead, they became the ground from which my voice has finally risen. I have written six books. Had I clung to those diaries, I might have remained in the memories, circling them endlessly. But I did not stay there. I rose from them, and in rising, I found my voice at last.
    cm writes says:

    So true. Sort it out and turn the page.

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