Poetry & Writing

I've written many poems and passages in my life, some depict my survival...others depict life in general. This is a place for me to share with you how I feel on the inside by using the gift of words.

Sometimes

Sometimes I'm a loser; hey,
sometimes I'm okay.
Sometimes I don't really know...
what I am to say...

Sometimes I'm afraid of life.
Sometimes that's okay.
When we're separate from this,
universal way...

Sometimes I fake it,
just to get a reaction...
Reaction out of him.
Sometimes there's a purpose,
a trim, a whim, a luminescent grim.

From his face,
Sticky with disgrace...
Sometimes I'm last in line,
sometimes I'm chased...

To the middle of this precipice,
sometimes I'm just a gust of wind....
Letting him in....
Letting him win...

If I killed myself,
will he find me?
If I'm dead and gone,
will he bind me?
To this soul of mine,
Long and dead?
Will I know I am gone?
Will I roam on and on?

© Haullie Free

Miracle Standing

Given the circumstances,
I took chances on my life.
I gave back to the hand that bruised me,
I took back from the girl who wept.
I gave freedom to the sickness,
held my sanity in chains.
I followed every wrong path,
I only had myself to blame...until now.

I know I'm a miracle standing.
Some say I am one breath away from mending.
I know I'm one shoe lace from slipping,
But I promise I'm not tripping....this time.

Given the way I grew up,
I took love from the eyes that would find me,
I gave in to the men and their lies,
although I worked and I tried...
So hard to be a "good girl" praying.
I know I had so much left inside me.
I refused to be their meat, kneeling at their feet,
I will never be ashamed for wanting.

I know I'm a miracle standing.
Some day I'll make a perfect landing.
I know when I fly, my heart soars high,
and I am confident I'll heal in time.

© Haullie Free

The Cycle

Sustain the cycle of faith.
Listen to the courage of your voice.
For within the strength is honor;
the stepping stone towards choice.

If one can move a mountain;
this mountain can erupt.
To shake the world of anger,
and bring and end to all corrupt.

A cycle is a wheel,
turning slowly in this world.
Created in this Universe,
for every boy and every girl.

To break the code of silence,
please listen to this plea.
Love yourself enough to stand,
and I promise you'll be free!

© Haullie Free


Many Years in Anger

Black bird shot down.
Holding on to her wings.
"Daddy" has no hold on you anymore,
you needn't call him that little girl.

Because the widow is your soul,
and everybody knows you now.
When daydreams mix with realization.
You can turn dust into mountains.

Flutter flutter flutter in the air,
where is Mother, she made a bad decision.
So I sit with my black dress torn to pieces,
and laugh with the pain inside.

Too mellow dramatic for you?
Too bad, you're not so smart yourself,
I seem to crave divinity above him,
So where do I stand my black birds?

© Haullie Free

You Can

You can drive me down, you can melt my spirit, you can hurt me hard with words. You can think of me in brutal ways, but it only means you hurt worse.

You can judge me, nudge me, crush me with imprecation. You can slash at my soul with your slander. You can hate me, mistake me, forsake me or break me, but remember I’ll hold you in candor.

You can show animosity if I say I am beautiful, what it means is what I can’t explain. You can call me a mockery, a dummy, a phony, yet know me before smearing your shame.

You may call me immodest for believing in myself, though you have no idea how I yearned; before, there were so many days when I hated the girl in this body that burned.

I’ve put out the fire within, let me promise you now, I believe in you too. Though in you I may wander with my confidence growing, don’t be set on what you think is true.

You can step on my opinions; you can swap delusive stories with your consorts, though they know me none. You can "figure me out" with your gesture of apathy, but it means that you’re reaching out for someone.

You can call me a cover, a book you’ve not read, use me like your 'dammit doll'. You can say I’m unworthy, because now I love me, but I’ll never wait wishing you’ll fall.

I’m above this, beyond this, rebuilt and reborn, I am healing, I’m caring, I’m true. I am sure of myself, if that offends who you are, I will make no apologies for you.

© Haullie Free

My Soul is an Ocean

My soul is an ocean,
with waves pure and free.
Where bubbles are Survivors,
who feel just like me.

My heart is the rocks,
the waves crash against.
Strong and amazing,
yet shapely and intense.

My life are the birds,
that hover high above.
They teach me to fly,
and protect what I love.

My spirit is the sands,
ever moving beneath.
and above like my soul,
I can finally see.

© Haullie Free

Girl In The Mirror

The mirror reflects
what I see in myself.
Every scar, every tear,
every solemn let down.

It also reflects,
just how special I am.
Nothing special is ugly,
nothing special is bland.

Like a handful of sands,
we stand proud in the wake.
Moving through such reflections,
to uphold what we make.

Out of life, out of love.
Can it possibly be?
That the girl in the mirror,
loves the girl that is me.

© Haullie Free

The Rivers

The women are the lands.
The men are the rivers.
That cross through the valleys,
leaving there such a shiver.

They say this voice of pain,
comes with a gentle whimper.
But sometimes it's strong and brave...
hibernating in the Winters.

And the better days, the river days,
the Ocean, the creek and the lake shore days.

"Not a sound out of you,"
says the darker days.
"I am somebody too!"
says the rivers in it's way.

© Haullie Free