How to Ask

How must one ask when the questions unclear?
Every syllable a realization of what we feared.
Lost only to the pride that make our beds.
Pretending the needs only in our heads.

How must one give when they’ve yet to receive?
Engulfed in a constant state of need.
Longing for even an ounce of change.
Praying for miracles no longer seems so strange.

How must one know when an answers been given?
Especially when the questions been hidden.
Looking closer one may disagree.
Perhaps they’re there, we just cannot see.

Venice Hughes

This Chica is Published!

I am beyond pleased to have had the opportunity to be published along some some of the most talented writers I know in OUR NEW BOOK simply titled Poetstuffers: An Anthology.  We have put together a collection of some of our best work to date.  A wide range of topics, issues, and events are explored by each individual, and even expose some of the deepest parts of ourselves through each piece presented.  Right now we just have it available as a hard copy, but will soon have it ready for e-book distribution as soon as we can.  I can’t begin to tell you how proud I am of this accomplishment and to be able to share it with all of you.  I will leave a link to the book if you are interested here, as well as create a page with any of my published work so it can be easily found in the future.  I am also working on a little something something of my own as well.  More detail on that later though.  For now, I just want to enjoy this milestone 🙂

 

Mr. Sunrise

He lays his head upon the pavement,
For the first time in his life.
Just off the highway exit
On the corner of 8th and Sunrise.
Mr. Bright Eyes, they called him.
So young and alive,
With a diploma and a dream
To better himself inside.
He had everything he needed
And goals to succeed someday.
He stepped onto the campus.
And was well on his way.
But now he lies here, cold.
Alone.
And with nothing.
He lost it all in an instant
And society watched him in awe.
Tuition’s too high.
And The Government cut his funding.
Couldn’t find a decent job
And As citizens we did nothing.
Except place our faith in the system
To sort him out on its own.
After all, it’s what we paid for,
The shelters, the loans.
The food donated to the helpless
Who lost their place to go.
I saw him one time
Driving down I-5 ,
Shivering in the rain
Dutifully holding a sign.
Praying for miracle
As cars pass him by.
I brought him some coffee
And an umbrella today.
Hoping for a smile
To cross his aging face.
And it did, for an instant.
As tears filled his eyes.
And he told the story
Of Mr. Sunrise

Venice Renee-Lynn Hughes

Self-Acceptance: Defining Yourself Part 1

 

To understand one’s self, one must think
One must clear their mind
And analyze the being
Reflected through their eyes
And try to find the
Definition
Of the one
Who is
“Me”

Venice Renee-Lynn Hughes

Self-Acceptance: Releasing Insecurities

I held it there at my fingertips
And I felt it slipping away.
Just moments before it fell
I had no words to say.
I gave it my all
And now I breathe.
Finally,
I am
Free

Venice Hughes

It Whispered

I hear a pleasant voice
So quiet and peaceful,
Beckoning for me to travel down this long corridor.
Offering its silent support
The voice whispered
“You are not alone like before”.

In an example of my trust
I followed the voice
Past the roar of flames.
Suffering in silence
The voice whispered
“Now who is to blame?”

Lost in disbelief
I plunged into my dilemma
Hoping I can overcome.
Stunned in silence
The voice whispered
“They forgive you for what you have done”.

This was a gigantic burden off my shoulders
And I realized I too had changed.
Beckoning for me to travel down this long corridor
The voice whispered in my ear,
“You have become a stronger person than before”
And then it disappeared.

Venice Renee-Lynn Hughes

Valentine 5-7-5

Chocolate Roses
Covered with gentle kisses
Night has just begun

Venice Renee-Lynn Hughes

The Headache (Psalms Style)

I approached my bed
Hoping to greet sleep

For my head was pounding
A headache stirred underneath

My vision had blurred
And tears ran down my cheeks

The nausea had crept in
And my stomach fell weak

Fatigue had failed me
I just couldn’t sleep

There was no other choice
I had to find relief

So to the kitchen I went
Following instincts

And found the cure within
A bottle of Rapid Release

Venice Hughes

Just for fun write after being food poisoned yesterday.  Not a good time let me tell you.

The Moments After

It’s like the fire that was lit within
Has dwindled,
Withered,
Faded to oblivion.
Leaving but a trace of who I was
Scattered across photos
My writings,
My loves.
I do not wish to pursue anything
No longer dream of a world
With all of us,
Together,
Peacefully living.
With no worries,
Just time,
Just a place to feel free.
I believed it were possible
If we made it a habit on our knees.
And all would be forgiven
And you’d live to see me succeed.
But for once I feel nothing
And truly feel lost.
Like I had to pay for my security
And you were the cost.
Been so long since a passing
Had hit so close to home.
And the memories keep replaying
Though my heart has grown cold.
Is it normal to feel angry?
Is it normal to feel alone?
Is it normal to blame Him
Even though you chose to go?
Grieving seems unhealthy
When they expect you to be strong.
But how can I hold this family up
If I can’t find the strength to move on?

Venice Renee-Lynn Hughes

Gunner – Street Crime Stories

She said the war had just begun.
That she had been there
Only once.
Laid in mourning, came undone.
For she had lost
Her only son.
She heard the voices.
And the pain they sung.
As they carried their babies
One by one.
No second chances.
What’s done is done.
She waited for justice.
But there were none.
They blamed the founders.
And their “constitution”.
But she blamed those monsters
Holding the gun.
No second chances.
And what’s done is done.
She doesn’t ask for a resolution
She prays for one.

Venice Hughes