Find your Bluebird

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Find your Bluebird

Jos Zwarts

Jos Zwarts

Jos Zwarts

Vinessa Sowell

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Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me. Actually, words saved me. Poetry. My life revolves around poetry. Words of wisdom are woven into poetry as it sucks you in and makes you want to read more. The words of so many writers changed my life, and saved me from the broad pain of the world. The words of Charles Bukowski made me fall in love with poetry. His poem “Bluebird” reads:

There’s a bluebird in my heart that

wants to get out but I’m too tough for him

I say, stay in there, I’m not going

to let anybody see you.

The bluebird can be anything that you want it to be; Bukowski’s bluebird is his soft side. My bluebird is my pain and my past. I act strong around people and smile often to show that I am happy, when I am really not. I try my hardest to hide my pain, but it is almost impossible because there is hardly any time where you can scream and just release all of your feelings and emotions.

Poetry is my way of expressing my feelings without hurting anyone. When I was young my mother would yell at me asking how I felt, and it made me shut down. Now it takes everything in me to tell someone how I feel. I would write words onto a thinly lined paper as if I was screaming my thoughts to someone who wouldn’t listen, but Bukowski listens. I was able to relate to “Bluebird” in ways that only few would understand.

There’s a bluebird in my heart that

wants to get out

but I’m too clever, I only let him out at night

sometimes when everybody’s asleep.

I say, I know that you’re there,

so don’t be


He says, when one is not willing to express their emotions to someone in person, they do it alone in their room while everyone is asleepor awayso that nobody will hear the cries of a broken soul.

I haven’t quite let him die

Of his poem, I no longer relate to this part. I’ve pushed my emotion and pain to the back of the list. I’ve become numb and lost in a mental oblivion, as gray clouds rest above my head, with chains around my ankles only letting me move so far. Bukowski and I are so similar but so different. We understand one another, but he and I have never met.  

Poetry does not only expresses sorrow and hurt, but also love and desire. Love is a difficult subject for many to explain, but within poetry you can show every emotion in ways that more people will understand. Poetry is more connecting than a conversation. A poem of mine called “Reality” reads:

A life with your smile is the kind of day where you soak the sun through your skin and breath in fresh air… this isn’t my reality

life without your smile is a day full of navy blue rain and marble gray clouds

this is my reality a reality I don’t want to live in

but this reality is one I must live in so you can be happy.

But “Reality” is more than just love and pain. It’s sorrow, desire, loss, faithfulness, true love, and realization. It takes more than a few words and a few thoughts to be able to express how you feel sometimes.

Poetry is a passage to your soul. Those words of pain can be your friend and a release to your pain. Poetry was my greatest friend while I was in Avera Behavioral Health. Poetry wasn’t enough for me at times to get my thoughts away from my mother. Suicide would cross my mind often, but poetry helped me. The truth shouldn’t be hidden, the youth’s feeling shouldn’t be hidden! This pain that people are feeling should be the way. Poetry is a way to put a smile on your face. Pain can be beautiful sometimes, the world just needs to see it that way. Don’t let the pain and sorrow bring you down when poetry can lift you up from those dark times.

Time must pass before you can heal. Poetry doesn’t speed up the process; it just makes it less painful. Words of wisdom heal the soul in ways which many need and more want.

“Demons of Darkness”

by Olivia

She stood on the bridge

In silence and fear

For the demons of darkness

Had driven her here


They cut her heart

Right out of her chest

Making her believe

That the demons knew best


They were always there

Sometimes just out of sight

Waiting in the background

Till the time was right


These demons were destructive

Knocking down the life she knew

Hating everything about her

She hated herself too


These demons can’t be seen

But they’re far from fairy tales

They live inside your mind

Their evilness prevails


So on the bridge she stood

About to end the fight

Then she stopped and thought

I’ll fight them one more night

Can you relate? Do you feel what she feels? If you do, please open up to the poetry life I have. Show the world what you feel without hurting the world. Call the suicide hotline. Save a life or save another. 1-800-273-8255. I love you, you are loved.

Life without you is completely unreal, but it is real; reality

My reality

Our reality

You cannot be in my reality and I cannot be in yours


A life with your smile is the kind of day were you soak the sun through your skin and breath in fresh air… this isn’t my reality

Life without your smile is a day full of navy blue rain and marble grey cloud. This is my reality; a reality I don’t want to live in

But this reality is one I must live in so you can be happy.


This reality, my reality


This life

Filled with t-shirt collars soaked from crystal clear tears and muddy under shoes

This life

Covered in glossed upside down smiles and smeared mascara

This life

Laced with dried blood and scared thighs.


My reality is my reality and in so many ways… perfect. As long as you are happy.


Your reality is meant to be filled with love and peace.


Your life

Filled with bright raw rays from the streaming sun

Your life

Covered in pearly white smiles and vibrant colored eyes

Your life

Laced with screams of laughter filling the large halls of your beautiful soul.


That is what your reality should be…

I hope it will be one day

Without my reality hurting yours


Our perfect reality


Filled with bright raw rays and navy blue rain.

A love poem by Vinessa Sowell

Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me. Find your bluebird, my love. But never have your bluebird hidden for to long. Bluebirds aren’t meant to be caged, they are meant to be set free.