Penned, August 30, 2026/ Human Written For the International Contest, Dear Poetry Sponsor, Silent One
Dear Poetry . . . I have been writing since I was a young girl at first just scribbles about my cat about flowers in mom's garden little things . . . not important things I even wrote on my bedroom wall that was not appreciated so, my parent gave me lots of paper my grandma gave me a journal she encouraged me always when my father died I wrote a poem about him in his tool shed as dust floated among the cobwebs and sun shone through dirty windows that day . . . I found my poetic voice and my journey began now, poetry is like breathing to me I am nothing without it- need it . . . I have written of death and graveyards lots about nature, love, loss, pets, experiences family, feelings hard to cope with of letting go and holding on thoughts pour from my pen where those words come from I do not know . . . God gave me this gift to use and I will use it always and forever and when I cannot hold a pen I will write poetry in my head . . .
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