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I journal my journey

along the jagged track

of my jigsaw life

in spite of my jittery nerves

and jaded cloak


I tell tales of tumultuous terrain

tending my teapot filled with theoretical jargon

which jolt me back and forth

from tiptoe-to-tigress


I write washable words

with no warrantee

as I wiggle and waggle, teeter and totter

between joy and woe


I pen pragmatic prophecy

with my proud poetry


Hopefully, this will prompt my harried heart

to part with the prima donna ego cape

and trade it for a more primitive



tapestry of truth




Sharon Robinson Simmons




Freedom is driving a brand new car

a little too fast

on the interstate highway

with no specific destination

time and money in my pocket

and only the wind messing with my head


Freedom to move

Freedom to go

Freedom to stop

Freedom to be “me”

alone in a car

singing any damn song

in any damn key


Freedom is stopping at the hotel of “my” choice

to rest…

eat whatever I want to eat

do whatever I want to do


…and write lies on postcards

to my loved ones back home


“Wish you were here!”


Sharon Robinson Simmons

Performance Poets Association®



You want to know just who I am

Put me in a little box

Label me and understand

You may call me “Paradox”.


I have 20/20 vision

Yet, I’m blind as a bat

I’m an angel with wings

I have claws like a cat.


My name is “Red”

My name is “Green”

And every color

In between.


I will love you to pieces

And fight you to the death

I will drive you away

I will take away your breath.


I am love

I am hate

I’m never on time

I’m never too late.


My courage exceeds

My cowardice prevails

I am soft

Yet, hard as nails.


I am fire

I am ice

I am devil

I am nice.


I am tender and warm

with a love you can trust

I am hot and I am cold

A virgin filled with lust.


I’m a slut

I’m a prude

I’m polite

I am rude.


I am very special

In an ordinary way

I will never leave you

But, I will never stay.


I am ruthless

I am fair

You’ll see me here

When I’m over there.


Call me bad

Call me good

But my real name

Is “Misunderstood”.


I am your wildest fantasy

Your worst nightmare, too

I am all that is old

And even more that is new.









I am pink

I am black

And everything

You’ve ever lacked.


I see myself as lazy

Yet, you will call me driven

I’m often rather selfish

Though you’ll always see me giving.


I am weak

I am strong

I’m always right

And always wrong.


I’m a lady of distinction

And a crude and tawdry bitch

I am Ghandi and Mother Teresa

I’m a warlock, I’m a witch.


I am the beauty

I am the beast

My name is “Hypocrisy”

To say the least.


I am prideful

In a humble sort of way

I am rich, yet very poor

I don’t see black and white, just gray.


I’m a princess

I’m a frog

I see clearly

Through the fog.


I am smart

I am dumb

I am depressed

But I have fun.


I am woman

I am man

I am water

I am land.


Call me what you wish

Sort me like your socks

Label me your “Crayon”

And place me in a box.


My name is “Red”

My name is “Green”

And every color

In between.


                               Sharon Robinson Simmons

Sharon’s Poetry website