So let’s try something! Rhymes, poems or creative stories!

The objective is to come up with a meaningful 2 paragraphs for a creative writing or 2 verse for a rhyme or poem.

Let’s see what talent y’all have!
I’ll go first!

I choose a creative writing:

Day 1. The first cry. The first breath of fresh air inhaled. And soon the first seen sight. The first time the mother gets to see what she’s been caring for 9 months. All the pain, crying, and happiness to see this amazing bundle of joy. Whether it’s a boy or girl your excited to hold the life that you created.
A week goes by and your still filled with happiness and love with caring for you newborn baby. When the doctors call you and tell you to come the hospital immediately. They tell you there is something wrong with the baby. Your first instinct is to start crying after the doctors pull into the room and tell you that your baby has Cystic Fibrosis. They tell you that he’s going to have a limited life and a lot of complications. They list off the complications that were possible. Shorter life expectancy. Lung capacity issues. Constant infections. Pain. Unexpected death. But the one they didn’t list was Mental illness. They didn’t think that a medical illness would cause stress, and depression enough to cause problems.

18 years later I’m still here. Came close with death a ton of times. I’ve fought 3 deadly lung infection back to back that nearly killed me. A athletic boy who did pole vaulting and tied his school record. Ran marathon, and 5k’s. A cycling fanatic.

Yes it will kill me someday but not today. The way I am today and what I do today will effect how I am tomorrow. I can alter my course of slowly dying by coreecting my present.

Roses are Red and Violet are blue, so don’t tell me what to do until you walk a day in my shoes.

Thank you for all your guys support so far and continue the Journey.

If anyone wants to follow my book go to Instagram and follow me @ official_forever_finding

Forverfinding you are a light

Karen, no words, well one, connection.

I will humbly try to write what my art speaks.

Back then, I found what I knew was wrong all those years.
Faced the locked doors holding horrors, monsters, unspeakable things.
The moat and castle I built so strong and safe, now a prison full of fears.

Two clinicians strong and well, no need to change as others tell.

Repeated urges that cleansed my blood sends me to lock up.
Trauma, what is that the doctors say in their head, medicate, keep calm.
When her thoughts are better, did our job, see her mood, like a pup.

Four times my life would be no more, was not worthy of this world.
How could I be with all the truths, when all the lies were now exposed.
Everyone told me, “you have not changed, we think the same”

The face told another story, the loss of friends and job my blood it curled
Some called and said no more, did not have fortitude to face me.
The dirt I smelled, felt and saw, did not wash off, made me hurl.

Years went by, I worked so hard, support group said don’t live in the past.
No one could understand, I could not express, details to horrible
Continued to work, each and every day, finally saw victories at last.

My walls crumbled, briarers smaller, jungles clearer, storms milder.
Sun appeared in brief moments, path came to focus, I could walk
Grateful for my clinicians, followed suggestions, read everything compiled

Independent and happy, life once again an adventure!
I tell by their faces, ‘fake it till you make it’, not so!
I wish all could see application of self is the clencher.

Things I once loved are gone, this is true.
As with landslides, the road must be cleared
In order to see the view.


Peace
Trina

Nice Trina...

I am not a poet or a creative writer. I want to put thoughts down but I can't organize.

But I love reading all of yours.

Hugs, Karen...

Good job all of you.

Now try to go out of your comfort zone and try a different thing. If you did a story them try a poem or rhymic lines. If you rhymed then try to go into a story.