Excerpt for Songs of the Heart and Soul a book of Free Verse Poetry by , available in its entirety at Smashwords

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Songs of the Heart and Soul

Copyright 2018 Ms Petra Henville

Published by Ms Petra Henville at Smashwords

ISBN: 9781370420100

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Author Note



The Devil Is a Liar

Autumn Speaks

Pen to Paper

Try Again Tomorrow

At The Beach

Give Me Yours

Tell the Truth

A Song to Aleah

I Said Good-bye


A Tiny Little Sigh

Pretty Red Shoes

The Black Fire


My World



What’s It like to Be a Poet

Come Play with Me

About The Author

Other books by Ms Petra Henville

Connect with Ms Petra Henville

Author Note

It took me a lifetime to put this offering together for you. The oldest poem herein was written when I was only thirteen years old. Another poem in this book took me fifteen years in total to write. This, I present to you for your literary enjoyment.


First and foremost, I would like to thank God for the blessings, most importantly the gift of creativity and the willingness to share it with the world. Also, I would like to give thanks to all that inspired me. If it weren’t for your grace and presence in my life my body of work wouldn’t be what it is. Finally, last but, not least I give thanks to all that put up with me. I know, at times, it isn’t easy.


I dedicate this book to all of my friends, family, fans, followers and supporters. It is for you that I give all that I have to my work.

The Devil Is a Liar

Someone said, the devil is a liar

He would tempt my fancy

Set my soul afire

He offered me candy

For my soul to feast

He turned my need to greed

Making me ugly

Leaving my soul empty

My pen cries quietly

For me

He wore so many faces

My father, my brother, my lover, my friend

He touched my private places

He left me alone in the end

Left with thoughts that are not kind

My mind

With an unquenchable need

It is my very soul on which he feeds

I fear the answer but,

I ask my God

What have you made me

As I pray for mercy


The Devil Is a Liar was written when I was around seventeen years old. Many years went by before I submitted it to an international contest. I couldn’t believe it when it got the editor’s choice award and then went on to be published in America at the millennium, the best poems and poets of the twentieth century. Go figure, it was a doodle I wrote while talking on the phone.

Autumn Speaks

I will walk with you

As I have walked with you

Through the spring of our youth

When our walks were leisurely

You stopped to put flowers in my hair

And I left them there

Autumn speaks to me

In the rustling of the leaves

Foliage changing colors

The leaves are now as beautiful as summer flowers

And changing by the hour

So are the colors of our love

Transforming to a deeper hue

And so much more brilliant too

Though winter is coming

And our pace is slowing

I will walk with you

As I have walked with you

Together we will make it through


Autumn Speaks was inspired by a tree that stands just outside my mother’s bathroom window. I’ve watched the seasons change throughout the years by watching that tree. I can’t explain the feeling I got each and every year as I saw the first buds of spring on its branches.

I’ve come to look at that tree as an old friend. I took pictures as some of the most beautiful birds that came to rest on its branches. One of which was a raven. That was way cool.

I’ve always wanted to write a poem about the seasons changing. I couldn’t in my youth because I didn’t have enough seasons under my belt. I do now.

Pen to Paper

At times, when I touch pen to paper


My thoughts dissipate in a vapor

My consciousness starts free falling through time and space

The words begin to keep their own pace

No longer authored by me

They are excavating, channeling their way through me

As if struck by lightening

It’s a quickening

I am tapped into something much larger than I am

Ideas, emotions, rattling, clanging, banging, interchanging and exchanging

On a sub-atomic level

Sounds; like water, ever moving

Words; like the sun, shining

It’s in the’s everywhere

I can touch it, taste it, see it and feel it on my flesh

I breathe it in every breath

It’s in my blood; it’s beating in my chest

Burning in the fires of passion

With value, meaning, rhyme and reason

Oh my God

A new poem has come into being


I was working on a short fiction piece when Pen to Paper passed right through me. I simply recorded it.

Try Again Tomorrow

My Page, fresh and new

When focus eludes

My thoughts are running rampant

My pen is delicately tapping

Gingerly rapping the rhythm in my head

Nothing is written

Hour after hour is passing

This can’t be happening

I run my hand across the page

Just to feel the grain

It is smooth and empty

Words have once again escaped me

Oh what a bitter sweet sorrow

I guess I will just have to try again tomorrow


Try Again Tomorrow is a poem about writer’s block. The brutal truth is that no writer is immune to it. It happens to the best of us, from Stephen King to you and me. How we deal with it shows our mental metal as a writer.

At The Beach

We were at the beach that night

Bathed in a beautiful glow

Beneath a crystal clear starry sky

She commands the fire flies, you know

They shone brightly as they pranced all about her

As she danced barefoot around the fire

I longed to be near her, to hold her

Gently like the waves that crashed

Kisses; like condiments

Sweet milk evaporating at the touch of my lips


She moved like an apparition

Heaven sent to dance before me like a celestial being

Tripping the light fancy

Through the patterns of my dreams

She let her sash fall to the sand

After she pulled it through the palm of my hand

She tossed her hair

And I blushed under the weight of her stare

I looked to the heavens for relief

For a brief moment all the stars in the sky seemed to spell



At The Beach is the sister poem to A Song To Aleah. I wrote it and put it off to the side. Years and years passed by and I happened to run across it not that long ago. I recognized it immediately. What a find!

Give Me Yours

Give me yours and I’ll give you mine

The circle is as round as the beginning of time

The clock ticks in vain

Crafty camouflage conceals the pain

Of simple mistakes

It is our souls that it takes

Through the ravages of hell

Only deep understanding can expel

Thoughts from wars

Where the words leave scars

Silence licks the wounds

The clock ticks too soon

And yet painfully slow

Shallow, fickle and fond our hearts grow

To love and laugh

At half we each grasp

Lifted on angel wings

To gaze upon the beautiful things

If we look, we’ll see

If we give, we’ll need

If I get hurt, you’ll get hurt too

If you trust in me, I’ll trust in you

The circles spiral through time

Give me yours and I will give you mine

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(Pages 1-13 show above.)