Are you brave when you don't have the choice? Are you mute if you can not hear your own voice? The fire blazes and I take the chance to do my dance. My soul feels the drums, feels the beat. My body feels

Handing over my cards My purse Relief lifting my head We are gathered, equal Sun slanting through windows Smiles on faces Free of weight we sing Holding hands Circle of new friends Exultant, we listen

A degree of freedom dissolving what we are and nothing has crystallized soft, fluent and nothing to hold on to meta and rigid in my thoughts Freedom for now as it is, as we are and nothing to intervene

RELEASE ME The comfort of my cage has worn off I look for a crack Search for a way out There is no hope here My soul screams “FREEDOM” This physical frame is restricting me It contains me But not for long

(Photographed while hiking with friends on La Roqueta Island) Woods. Word. Yes. Herban art, meet urban art. Juxtaposition I'm always fishin' for a lil' more freedom. He-dom. She-dom. We-dom. All getting

Many feel stuck in jobs or careers that leave one feeling hollow or at best unfulfilled.  I certainly am no different than most.  Along comes Steemit providing a creative outlet for those of

I promise this is the last Rhyming Couplet post I will make this week. (Sometimes not so rhyming). Not only because it is my third entry in this challenge, limited to three entries, but because I am aware

In many ways life is a prison of routines and responsibilities. This poem is about a couple experiencing one rare moment of freedom at a desert motel. Both the art and poem are my original work. Thank

CONTAINMENT I presented to the hospital, For too long now I'd been ill. The doors of glass they opened wide, Sheepishly I stepped inside. I told them I was not quite right, Maybe I could spend the night.

We forget that we can find freedom anywhere when we fix our gaze through telescopes searching for distant shoreline, sandy and safe, imagining that if we but cross this stormy sea we will find a haven,

Contained, a crumbling shell I yearn for escape Not here to dwell. Entering every day Scratched uniforms, hard hands What's to be my way? Pain swells, febrile cries. Stays sweet sleep when I close my eyes.

We are free We are free My brothers follow me My brothers follow me Cast off the shackles that bind us no more Follow me Follow me Listen no longer to those that stay thee Follow me Follow me Keep them

I'm humbly submitting the following mix of poetry and creative artwork as my 2nd entry into the #poetryslamtwo contest.  It's a bit out of my comfort zone and not my typical style of work but I had

Clutching, grasping, striving Struggling for this idea Where outside interferance becomes Past notion No nation Start the day free Then look around Then leave the house This notion This nation Do this,

Below is my humble contribution to the #poetryslamtwo contest.  I hope to tell another perspective of the story of the fallen angel Azazel, leader of the Watchers.  My inspiration comes from

I have written this Poem for the Children held on Nauru. To give them a voice. Australia imprisons all refugees arriving by sea, including children. Often they are held for years. The illustrations featured

This is my entry for the second Poetry Slam contest, of which the theme is Freedom (link). Many thanks to those who have organised this. _________________________________________ In wayward breaths I searched

Congratulations to the winners of the first Poetry Slam Challenge! Thank you to everyone who participated, the level of talent on Steemit is more than impressive, and the community is likewise amazing!