Does a poem have to be thought out
does it take years to edit and perfect

Or can it be,
can it just remain,
a few simple, raw lines

Ka か
Ke け
Ki き
Ko こ
Ku く

I write,
Over and over again,
As if chanting silently
To ward off
Forgetfulness
And a growing sense
Of impending mediocrity.

Is a poet still a poet
If they do not write?

A journal gathering dust,
But a yearning to write.
Am I still a poet
Without my inner light?

power
Tequila numbed out the pain
what you get
is what you see
vulnerable
I took the time
and it was  worth it
baby I'm worth it
poetry
can I teach you what I believe in
secrets
opening up to you was a given

Your laugh used to
Synchronize with mine,
What seemed inseparable
Was just the trick of time.

In the middle of the windstorm
You didn't hear the roar
That thundered out across the sky

In the middle of the windstorm
You didn't see the fire
That spewed forth upon the ground

In the middle of the windstorm
You didn't feel yourself burn
Caught in the eye of the inferno

As the world incinerates to ash
Know the seeds you planted
May finally have the warmth to grow