She Planted Her Own Flowers

By Kathlene Suzan Sharpe

Kathlene's poems are like flowers, each carefully grown into a powerful scene with strong nature images and a deep connection to our human experience. "She Planted Her Own Flowers" is a personal tribute to her four years spent in therapy to heal from post traumatic stress disorder. Turn the page and step into this magical world of growth and healing.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tablo Publishing
• Release date: Jan 11, 2021
• ISBN: 9781649695031

Book preview

Burning Leaves

Autumn falls over the first frost,

softly covering the turning woodland,

into a deteriorating landscape.

Beneath the October sky,

overlooking a deciduous forest,

keeping warm near the fireside.

In a burgundy winter fleece,

with cinnamon colored coffee.

From my cabin I am lost,

in the scent of burning leaves.

Amidst all of the colors of autumn,

I am reminded, how beautiful change can be.

I Saw a Man

I saw a man in a dark suit and a bowler’s hat,

he smiled an odd shaped grin,

I shrugged it off and smiled back at him,

he looked like such a sweet old man.

I saw a man in a trench coat that smelt of whiskey,

so, I hurried past him, on the wrong side of the city,

not wanting to see the prisoners that it keeps.

My day continued on, the strangers I saw were gone,

buried under the paperwork I dread getting lost in,

all of my prior thoughts had been forgotten.

The bells began to toll…it was time to go.

flickering lights of the subway car kept me awake.

eager to get home and retire to bed,

a few more stops, home was an instant away.

Trying hard not to slip upon the icy steps,

at last, I had arrived, finally reaching my bed.

Set my alarm for five and quickly drifted off.

nothing could have woken me.

I never heard the closet door creek,

unable to move, I saw only one thing,

an odd shaped grin staring down at me,

on his breath the faint scent of whiskey.

Flowering Reed

Falling petals of flowering reed

cascade to the forest floor rapidly

landing in her delicate palms

she sat quietly in the fog

healing the wounds of PTSD

The Willow Tree

She sits