Breaking Free Through Poetry

By Leanna Smith

Before she began writing poetry, author Leanna Smith had no way of getting her emotions out. With the guidance of an inspiring high school teacher, she found a new way of expressing herself. Through the highs and lows of her life, she continued to write, building a collection of verses that serve as a vivid display of sadness and passion.

Breaking Free through Poetry presents a compilation of love, loss, tears, happiness, joy, and sadness spanning thirty-one tumultuous years. Every poem she wrote was a lesson that she needed to learn about a situation she had to experience in order to grow.

This poetry collection, written over the course of more than thirty years, shares the thoughts, feelings, and stories of one woman’s life.

Dreams Die

I once dreamed that you and I
We’d come together like earth and sky,
But as you know dreams, they die
Without a doubt without a sigh
I wish I was too strong to cry
But this dream left tears in my eyes
And of course, I’ll still try
Because I’ll love her live or die.

• Language: English
• Publisher: LifeRich Publishing
• Release date: Feb 8, 2022
• ISBN: 9781489740168

Leanna Smith

Leanna Smith has been writing and living her poetry for thirty-one years. First diagnosed with rapid cycling bipolar disorder and a high-stress anxiety disorder at twenty-one years old, she has been chronicling her life and its highs and lows both before and after she found medication management.

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Copyright © 2022 Leanna Smith.

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ISBN: 978-1-4897-4015-1 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4897-4014-4 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4897-4016-8 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2022901451

LifeRich Publishing rev. date: 02/08/2022

Contents

A Broken Window

Dreams Die

Dreams Die

The Clouds & War

The Clouds

War

Marriage

Marriage

Storm

Storm

The Clutches of Hell & The Broken Doll

The Clutches Of Hell

The Broken Doll

Yesterday’s, How’s And Why’s

Yesterday’s, How’s And Why’s

I Love You I Miss You & Memories of Me

I Love You, I Miss You

Memories Of Me

Baby Talk

Baby Talk

Unexplained Love!!!

Unexplained Love!!!

All My Love

All My Love

Unnamed Poem

Unnamed Poem

Eternity

Eternity

An Addicts Dreams

An Addicts Dreams

The Rose

The Rose

An Addicts’ Life

An addicts’ life

Gentlest Angel

Gentlest Angel

Why As A Woman Do I Let Myself Hurt

Why As A Woman Do I Let Myself Hurt

I Pray & Honesty

I Pray

Honesty

Hope

Hope

It’s Me

It’s Me

A Woman I Call Mom

A Woman I Call Mom

Traveling Alone

Traveling Alone

Just What You Mean To Me

Just What You Mean To Me

What Is Music

What Is Music

Goodbye First True Love

Goodbye First True Love

The Search For The Perfect Pumpkin

The Search For The Perfect Pumpkin

The Way I Feel

The Way I Feel

Final Farewell

Final Farewell

A Gift From God

A Gift From God

Without You

Without You

We Are America

We Are America

My Man, Our Love, The Dream

My Man, Our Love, The Dream

A Hero Remembered

A Hero Remembered

Hopelessly Here

Hopelessly Here

A Broken-Hearted Journey

A Broken-Hearted Journey

Love Shine Bright

Love Shine Bright

Always Loved

Always Loved

Always And Forever

Always And Forever

It’s Nigh Night Time For Bonzo

It’s Nigh Night Time For Bonzo

My Perfect Son

My Perfect Son

Mommy’s Perfect Little Princess

Mommy’s Perfect Little Princess

21 Gun Salute

21 Gun Salute

Pretty Pretty Princess

Pretty Pretty Princess

Traveling Beyond The Unknown

Traveling Beyond The Unknown

I Will Believe In You

I Will Believe In You

Cancer The Unforgettable Goodbye

& An Angels Toughest Mile

Cancer The Unforgettable Goodbye

An Angels Toughest Mile

Adventures Between Us

Adventures Between Us

If I Should Die Tomorrow

If I Should Die Tomorrow

Kids Can Count

Kids Can Count

To Love Me

To Love Me

Depressions Freedom

Depressions Freedom

Changing the Times,

Changing the times

Remembering an Angel

Remembering an Angel

Places in Life

Places In Life

Dreamer

Dreamer

Bonzo Song

Vacation

Vacation

My great aunt & Me… & Not Ready To Say Goodbye

My Great Aunt And Me

Not Ready To Say Goodbye

My Legacy

My Legacy

Fun In The Heavens

Fun In The Heavens

Wipe Away My Tears

Wipe Away My Tears

Mishmiki Roska Aka Beautiful Rose

Mishmiki Roska Aka Beautiful Rose

An Angel Amongst Us

An Angel Amongst Us

Broken Promises

Broken Promises

A Powerful Lie

A Powerful Lie

No Where To Be Found

No Where To Be Found

What Does It Mean To Be Your Own Valentine

What Does It Mean To Be Your Own Valentine

Blue Mother’s Day

Blue Mother’s Day

My Heart’s Inspiration

My Heart’s Inspiration

A Missing Link

A Missing Link

If I Give Up Will I Die

If I Give Up Will I Die

Don’t Talk, Mother Won’t Listen

Don’t Talk, Mother Won’t Listen

Bent and Broken

Bent and Broken

My Baby Girl

My Baby Girl

Fall

Fall

A Person Gone Wrong

A Person Gone Wrong

From Dusk till Dawn

From Dusk till Dawn

Thank you

Thank you

Lion’s Den

Lion’s Den

The Long Goodbye

The Long Goodbye

No Justice

No Justice

Two Loves One Life

Two Loves One Life

Behind The Mask

Behind The Mask

Rebuilding From Within

Rebuilding From Within

The Complex Young Man

The Complex Young Man

Avoiding the Truth

Avoiding the truth

People Pleaser

People pleaser

Friend or Foe

Friend or Foe

Pretty Little Black Bird

Pretty Little Black Bird

Empty Nest

Empty Nest

Loving in Limbo

Loving in Limbo

Cuddle bug

Cuddle bug

Bathroom Terror

Bathroom Terror

Our Family

Our Family

What She Wants

What She Wants

Reasons Of Goodbye

Reasons Of Goodbye

My Good Name

My Good Name

Resigned Emotions

Resigned Emotions

The Unvarnished Truth

The Unvarnished Truth

Our Society

Our Society

Just As Tough As Molly Brown

Just As Tough As Molly Brown

A Mother’s Wrath

A Mother’s Wrath

Golden Band

Golden Band

A Marine Called Gunny

A Marine Called Gunny

Changing Times

Changing Times

The Painful Past

The Painful Past

The Edge Of A Ridge

The Edge Of A Ridge

Always Be My Baby

Always Be My Baby

Have Faith

Have Faith

What I know (about parenting)

What I know (about parenting)

Shattered Glass

Shattered Glass

Powerful Fall

Powerful Fall

Where Was America

Where Was America

Rainbow Bridge

Rainbow Bridge

All Alone

All Alone

Independence Day

Independence Day

I Am Confused

I am confused

Why Do Traditions Change

Why Do Traditions Change

Unconditional Love

Unconditional Love

My Hero Is A Survivor

My Hero Is A Survivor

Summary

Before writing poetry, I had no way of getting my emotions out. To make it worse I was a high schooler not only dealing with my baggage but also that of all the kids who thought bullying was a good idea. My school schedule was its atypical regiment of classes and I hated it. It did, however, provide for me an escape from my every day dull drum because I found that I was good in one type of class in particular. For me those classes were English. I just seemed to understand what the teacher was saying. The teacher, Mrs. Hutchins, who I believe has since passed away, was a sweet lady. She seemed to sense that there was more to me than just another student sitting in her class and she aimed to pull it out of me. I was not the only student she did this for. In fact, she cared for everyone even when they treated her horribly. Her motto was to never give up and she didn’t, not on teaching us English and not on making us the best we could be. Every year during high school Mrs. Hutchins would publish a book of work, short stories, drawings, and poetry done by her students and you could bet I’d be featured in there somewhere, albeit a haiku or some other thing she was teaching. I spent many days with Mrs. Hutchins over the years, she became my school confidant, school mom, friend, and advisor. She put up with no shenanigans out of me and she was always there to listen. She expected one thing and that was to be honest with my feelings even if I didn’t understand them and she facilitated this by teaching me how to write poetry. At first what I wrote was all jumbled-up words, random thoughts on paper that had no order or cohesion. She never overly criticized what I wrote except to say to change a tense here or there or to consider the order of my words. These scribbles on my drafts meant so much to me. They gave me value and gave value to what I was writing and feeling. I can remember many times hiding out in her classroom when life and high school became too hard or the kids too rough to deal with. The kids and life in general are not the only reason high school sucked so bad for me. Part of the reason high school was so hard was on me. You see I had discovered drugs albeit prescription and had developed quite an addiction to anything I could get my hands on. This addiction caused my already jumbled up emotions and on edge feelings to become even worse. I was like a tea kettle boiling on a hot stove. I was whistling so loud, spitting and sputtering emotional water everywhere. You’d think I’d be smart and just turn off the stove but no not me I’d take random pills that sometimes belonged to me other times did not never caring what they were or what they were doing to me, risk overdosing then I would stop or change medications and go through the withdrawals and then find myself writing some pretty crazy things. I wish I had all the poems I’d written from that time in my life because it’s fascinating to see how a skewed perception can become even more so when drugs are involved.

The first of my poems is short. It was one of the many featured in Mrs. Hutchins school books it’s called broken window. While I got great remarks on it, I’m not sure where it came from. I was at the time being raised by a single parent mom and my great aunt. My mom had just started dating the man who would eventually become my dad but that wouldn’t be for a couple of years and none of us really knew anything about him yet except that he was fun most of the time he was around us. The poem talks about a child’s fear of a father’s anger. Was I projecting something I didn’t know? Like I said my soon to be dad was usually always in a good mood but he did have a quick-fire temper. Was I sensing some kind of a problem before one actually existed?

A Broken Window

The broken window

The shattered glass

The frightened child outside,

Unsure what will happen

When his father comes home

Tonight…

Dreams Die

This next poem is called dreams die I wrote this poem in a time when not only was I still using but I was also quite conflicted emotionally. You see I had fallen in love with someone and I didn’t know whether it was right or wrong whether it was socially acceptable or not and how my family would feel, because they were a girl. We met in eighth grade and from the moment I saw her I felt everything she was feeling. All the way through school we were a connected pair when we moved on to high school that feeling grew and even as we added more friends to our group our bond became stronger it was as if no force could tear us apart. Boys would come and go in our lives and we would flirt with them even have relationships but I was never interested in the what happens next scenario because I always knew it would be me and her in the end. Then in our junior year she moved away, not too far but far enough that she was out of reach to me and we could only keep in touch on the phone. I was devastated I didn’t know what to do that is what started this poem. Today our friendship is strong it’s interesting to see how our lives have changed with our choices over the years. She went on to ultimately marry and divorce a man she spent 20 years with and have three sons who I call my nephews while I went on to marry three times and have 2 beautiful babies. Amazing how time changes what I once thought we were into what we are today... really good friends and sisters if not by parentage than by the heart.

Dreams Die

I once dreamed that you and I

We’d come together like earth and sky,

But as you know dreams, they die

Without a doubt without a sigh

I wish I was too strong to cry

But this dream left tears in my eyes

And of course, I’ll still try

Because I’ll love her live or die.

The Clouds & War

These next two poems are much like the last they are short. A little confusing and sort of out there in thought patterns. In the first one, the clouds, I’m talking about being up in the clouds. Was I high, probably, I don’t really know what I was thinking with this one? Kind of lends itself to what I was saying in the prologue with my random scattered thoughts. Then I double down and start talking about war in a poem titled the same. Keep in mind during this time what my internal dialogue and perspective was and maybe you’ll see the insight behind the quick change. Outside life was normal inside me there was a war going on of multiple forces. For example, not only am I bipolar and dealing with that back and forth but I had also found Satanism and so the fight between good and evil were going on as well. War was all around me inside and out and it was extremely difficult.

The Clouds

Softly moving and gently floating,

Makes me feel so good

Never a spoken word to be heard

On top of this white world on earth

War

Pain, Bomb, Threats

And killing many poor victims

And agonizing and amazing

Amount of dead or dying good people

Please! Stop This!

It’s hurting too many families

Marriage

Here is the last of my really short poems this one was written my senior year and I’m happy to say I was happy it was. The man my mom had been dating for about 2 years had asked her to marry him this was pretty incredible. They were blending a hodgepodge of a family together and I was ok with that. I was 18 years old and I was about to finally have what I always wanted and that was incredible. I don’t think he really knew what he was signing up for when he agreed to be my dad but once he got into it, he never shied away. He faced my demons and sometimes they were ugly.

Marriage

Love, Caring, Happiness

Bonding everlasting memories

Making a very large family

Let us keep the relationships growing

Storm

This poem is another of the many that I wrote and developed out of an argument I had with my mom trying to get her to understand that I just needed some of her attention that she was giving away to everyone else so freely. If you were to ask her, she would tell you she has, over the years, given me a lot of her attention in various capacities. Unfortunately for me what I needed my mom to give me and what she was capable of giving me were two different things. The many counselors she took me to coined the phrase the squeaky wheel gets the grease that is why she’s making so much noise she wants more of your attention. My mom’s favorite line when I was growing up was, she can want in one hand and crap in the other and see which one fills up faster. None of them understood then what it was like feeling like I didn’t belong even in my own skin. Comments like they both made were very debasing and devaluing. I was not squeaking I was crying out for help scared and alone, yes, I wanted her attention but it was more than just a want I needed it in order to feel like I could breathe. The storm I talk about in this poem is the conflict inside of me the constant turmoil the ups and downs that is the person living with bipolar and borderline personality disorder. It is an internal conflict similar to some but unlike any other mental illness. You feel crazy, people look at you like your insane and yet there is no way out. All the therapy in the world doesn’t help because the person who is suffering wants instant results, and there are none.

Storm

Thundering, Lightening, and all the bright lights;

Afraid are the children, afraid of the night.

The rain beats down on their shivering forms;

Oh, how they wish they were in from the storm.

Clash goes the lightening, a purple streak;

Followed by thunder, a growl not a shriek.

The kids try to make it to the distant front porch;

The light aglow like a tiki torch.

Again, flash goes the lightening, the children frozen in fear;

The rain is mixed with their salty tears.

Mommy they cry, open the door;

Into mom’s arms they run, mud splattered the floor

I was worried she said smoothing back their soaked hair;

Tenderly she holds them, mom’s love and care.

The Clutches of Hell & The Broken Doll

The next two poems the clutches of hell and the broken doll were written again out of another argument I had with my mom. This time she knew what my Achilles ‘s tendon was and she exploited it. My great aunt, who has since passed, had become ill, at the time we did not know what was wrong with her. What we knew was that she was very sick her legs were inflamed and she was throwing up she also had a fever and was quite ill. During the time these two poems were written I really only cared about two things in my life one was my great aunt the other was my younger siblings, specifically my younger brother Eugene and my baby sister, Ashley. The evening they were written, when my great aunt was so sick, my mom was frazzled, she wasn’t sure what was wrong with my great aunt and didn’t know how to take care of her and neither did I. She was preparing to take her to the hospital and she had asked me to take care of my younger siblings. Normally that would not have been a problem for me but for some reason this evening I couldn’t. I don’t know if that was because I had something going on, if it was because I was scared or if I was being a stubborn teenager or if there was something larger at play, I just know I didn’t feel like cooperating. My mom‘s way of handling me was to scream and yell at me and insult me and tell me I didn’t care only she took it a step further and told me that I wanted to see my great aunt die this was a low blow and one that I never forgave her for and I stormed out of the house and went out and sat on the trunk of my car crying. I wrote these two poems fairly quickly and without much thought. They just seemed to bubble out. In the end my mom sped away with my great aunt in the car going to the hospital which is where we got her diagnosis of diabetes and a severe cellulitis infection in her legs. Ultimately the hospital admitted her for several days on IV fluids and scared the life out of me. Prior to that I had never seen anyone in the hospital all hooked up, it was scary. My mom still has never apologized for that night nor do I think she ever will. She is famous for saying hurtful things in anger and then just letting them sit there as if they will eventually be forgotten. This is a trick I’ve never learned, the art of hearing hurtful things and just letting them roll off my shoulder and forgetting them. I remember them and those words ultimately damage the relationship because I don’t know how to process them properly. The bad thing is the exploding and word vomit is how I unfortunately have turned out. I guess you live what you learn. Now as an adult I find myself sometimes saying things that I later apologize