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Created on: June 16, 2009 Last Updated: November 21, 2011
Chapter
Cover nameless
Begun to peel
In these pages
Written how I feel
Torn and tattered
Worn and old
Penned what mattered
With ink of soul
Page through page
Staggers account
Attempt to gauge
In any amount
Some empty blank
Pages still
Do await
For ink to fill
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Poetry: Poets
Poet's Hands
Nonsensical these words that constant flow
As dewdrops from the morning sun
In whispers through the warming air
In elevated composition mostly in the abstract
from fact to non-fiction, light, grays, blues and blacks,
greater spirits shared
together, she was;
together, she was
an impression,
she is still
underneath is what
i am after
is it skill?
i really am
not certain
The Poet
The poet searches
for words, for rhyme
amidst church steeples
and dunghills,
in love's first kiss
and in the heartbreak
Voice
i am but a child myself...
one of many children
of the soil of this earth.
and with dirty fingernails
i've crawled this
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