The other day I was just sitting at my kitchen table, and there was a napkin sitting there that someone had doodled on. With nothing else to do, I turned the napkin over and wrote a short piece on it. What I got was this...
The words pour out and the heart feigns satisfaction.
The boy waits patiently and receives what he'd always hoped would be his.
The night is owned by the poet,
Though the pen is no one's claim.
Tears may fall and hands might hold on tighter,
And darkness will cease to inspire any fear.
Still we're here.
No, that's not right.
We're here again.
It's not the same.
We're better for our loss.
Through our loss we gain--
A chance to reclaim what we never really had.
A hope.
A dream.
A wish.
A reason.
An understanding of what it means to love.
3 comments:
there was a little rhyme in there... just a bit. :)
Hey. Don't sell yourself short. I can sell my poetry short all I like because it IS questionable. You really have something there. I won't tell you to change your header because this is your world, and I know how sacred it is. Just think about that.
One reason I love your poetry is because it bespeaks of the journey you are on. A journey to be a man,a journey full of love,vivacity, and heartache. But,it is real.
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