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I used to read your poems
but lately you don't write
you're silent and aloof
you know that isn't right.
You can't close a door once opened
you can't abolish all your dreams
you're a poet of the heart
mustn't fall apart at the seams.
Say what you can in words
they speak the message true
spoken from the heart
the poems will see you through.
A hermit's not your style
a recluse, you are not
never give up writing
of things that you've been taught.
I used to read your poems
I'd read them once again
if you would send them out
(this one's from a poet friend)
The flames of hell do not burn me for their own pleasure
They burn to reveal the truth of me
Behind my minds lies
Behind my defences
These flames do not burn me, they cleanse me
Their pain is my shame
They blister my guilt
I have run from these flames too long
I have hidden from them in my own shadows
Now I surrender
To their burn
To atone for the truth my hell reveals
To be worthy of myself
.
I welcome this hell
I welcome my flames
Hide your frail pretenses
In the curves of every arc
You think that I don't know
Why you only touch me in the dark

And flinch away when I reach out
As the sun begins to rise
You stiffen up, you've given up
On looking in the light
 Feb 2021 Robin Görtz
HOPE
GLOW
 Feb 2021 Robin Görtz
HOPE
It is the radiant glow
We get when we grow
From the head to the toe
Like the sun set afterglow
When she died
I thought I’d lost her
I hadn’t
I’d lost myself
Shattered in the blast
And I’m still searching
Occasionally I’ll find a broken piece of me
Some of them are not so pretty
They’re shamed deep with my failures
Stained with regret
I do my best to wash them
Before I put them back
Sanctified from sin.
Looking like a molting bird.
New feathers await.

— The End —