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My Dear Poet May 2022
I believe in the moon
the stars and the sun
I believe the power in many
I believe in the power of one

I believe in dreams
in visions and a hope
that one day we’ll be free
a world awaits without rope

I believe in heaven
and yes, I believe in hell as well
I believe in the after life
though, I’ve never been there to tell

But I believe in the good
that believing can do
I believe in Love
and most of all
I believe
in you
My Dear Poet May 2022
Three poets
rot down a river bed
their body decomposing
except their head
still composing poetry
and recite being dead
where poems still flow
I’ve heard them read

one was caught
by the sun beam
flickering ripples of light


another fought
by a splashing bream
kicking up a fight


the third flowed down
the rapid stream
where water foams white


I, one day went fishing
and caught myself a fish
down the river swimming
quoting Tennyson
Dickinson and Finch
I set it free
because poetry is freeing
Not every line in the end
is a hook
three dead poets can testify
down by the brook
Three poets wrote about a river
My Dear Poet May 2022
I will follow you
whereto you roam
I will follow you
all the way home
down the road
up the hill
along the river
by the mill
past the tin shed
that old shoe store
till I follow you
and go no more
to an open field
where a path unpaved
with stones unsealed
leads to your grave
My Dear Poet Apr 2022
She said, “I don’t like talking about my feelings. My feelings are as fleeting as the season of summer”.

I told her, ”I never had a problem ever talking about the sun and temperamental weather”.

She said, “I don’t like talking about emotions. My emotions are as dry as autumn leaves”.

I told her, ”I never had a problem with a blowing wind or whirling breeze”.

She said, “I don’t like talking about my fears. My fears are a looming dark sky for a winter storm”.

I told her, “I never had a problem finding shelter and a place to keep her warm”.

I smiled and said, “Let’s just walk and talk about spring”.

…she left me there planting seeds.

while all along, I never had a problem picking her flowers away from the weeds.
like the seasons she changed
My Dear Poet Apr 2022
Itsy bitsy spider
crawling in deceit
along came the truth
and stomped it with its feet

Down came the shoe
and squashed it’s organs out
splat like a web of lies
it’s bits all about
If you appreciated this poem
watch the video: https://vm.tiktok.com/ZSdUWNRV2/
My Dear Poet Apr 2022
I never knew
something could be so broken
without falling apart
My Dear Poet Apr 2022
If you help me with this letter
I may not need to send it
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