Higher Power (Poem)

| anotherbeautifulrhyme

What if I’m not lost?
What if I have been
carrying around
the truth beneath my skin?
What if in the past,
when I looked up into the blackened night,
searching for a beacon,
pleading for guidance
my higher power waited?
Lying dormant in my heart,
she patiently, silently, lovingly waited for the right time to awaken, to be known to me.
I asked too soon
for a revelation,
I know this now.
I had lessons to learn,
mistakes to make,
demons to burn,
a journey to take.
My heart needed to
shatter and heal,
my eyes needed
to see the world without rose-coloured glasses,
without a whimsical
shield to blind me.
My legs needed to be
dragged along different paths,
to lead me to this place.
Now, my higher power is here, she is alive and listening.
She whispers in the
night and day,
reveals her wisdom to me.
She lights my soul with
burning embers.
Like sunbeams,
hope shines through
my eyes again.
Gratitude runs through my veins.
I am who I was meant to be.
She had a plan all along.
My higher power
knew I would crumble,
she knew I would fall,
but she also knew
that I would rise again.
– EJ

©Emma-Jane Barlow, all words are my own.

Follow my poetry Instagram @EmmaJanePoetry

Darkest Days (Poem)

| anotherbeautifulrhyme

A world divided,
living in a digital matrix,
under a veil, day after day.
Slaves to our own
comfortable routines.
Easy, want it, need it,
click of a button.
Protecting our own hearts,
the lives we have built.
Millions of human lives,
a kaleidoscope of divergence.
An array of stories being told
through one lense of time.
Then, change.
A bane is set free.
Spreading through the world,
it eliminates, menacingly
praying on the weak,
tearing human lives apart.
But we are courageous,
we have kindness in our souls,
hope burning through
our spirits like wildfire.
We are human,
we can get through this.
Stay strong,
believe in togetherness,
believe in community,
the world will continue to shine,
even after its darkest days
– EJ

©Emma-Jane Barlow, all words are my own.

Follow my poetry Instagram @EmmaJanePoetry

What Is A Poet? (Poem)

| anotherbeautifulrhyme

What is a poet?
Woken by a whispering
muse from dusk until dawn
a sculpter of words,
an artist who paints
words that can set
a soul on fire.
What is a poet?
The yearning to feel,
to decipher the meaning
of the world.
A poet is a vessel of love,
a carrier of pain.
A poet is a creative
spirit craving definition.
I am a poet, a label
I am proud to unveil,
a word that elucidates – me.
– EJ

©Emma-Jane Barlow, all words are my own.

Follow my poetry Instagram @EmmaJanePoetry

Our Love (Poem)

Aside | | anotherbeautifulrhyme
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Two thousand and one,
summer roses, full bloom.
Locked hands, freckled faces,
young hearts in June.
Two thousand and four,
your name touched my lips,
reliving a memory, a passing eclipse.
Two thousand and nine,
I wished for a soul to love forever,
the universe smiled, thought of you,
the plan was always us - together.
Two thousand and ten,
the year my life forever changed.
 Our love exploded like stardust,
 sixteen, first kisses, exchanged.
Two thousand and twenty,
a decade with you by my side.
Our love blossomed like
summer roses, our hands,
forever entwined.
- EJ
©Emma-Jane Barlow, all words are my own.
FOLLOW MY POETRY INSTAGRAM EMMAJANEPOETRY

Solitude (Poem)

Aside | | anotherbeautifulrhyme
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com
When the world explodes
with hues of rainbows,
roars with fireworks of thunder.
I seek solitude.
When notifications multiply,
bad news seeps through the cracks of my screen,
when the vulnerability of the planet’s future is exposed.
I seek solitude.
When riots commence,
words become weapons,
humans lock horns to
prepare for combat.
I seek solitude.
When sombre shadows
conceal my inner glow,
threaten to tear down
the bridge of hope,
I have bled to build.
I seek solitude.
Solitude is my remedy,
my refuge to find silence,
to be still, in the midst of a hurricane. 
- EJ
©Emma-Jane Barlow, all words are my own.
FOLLOW MY POETRY INSTAGRAM EMMAJANEPOETRY

The Beauty Of The Night (Poem)

| anotherbeautifulrhyme 
The beauty of the night,
when the world is still.
Ink covered fingers,
blank page and quill.

A writing muse awakens,
with the rising of the moon.
Words set in motion
like a wild typhoon.
Dark letters fall on white,
a new vision created.
The muse slept with the sun,
inspiration waited.

As the stars emerged,
they shined their light.
The writer felt at home
with the beauty of the night. 
- EJ 
©Emma-Jane Barlow, all words are my own.
FOLLOW MY POETRY INSTAGRAM @EMMAJANEPOETRY