Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Warm milk
Tired eyes
No anxiety
Full tummy
Full comfort
In your arms
Drifting, yes,
Slowly but surely.
 Mar 2020 Heather
Stained Glass
The version of me you created in your mind is not my responsibility.
 Mar 2020 Heather
Sunstrike
When butterflies fall in love, do they feel humans in their stomach?
 Mar 2020 Heather
David Lessard
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)
and must
i
say
not in agony
but
in realisation
"we poets are liars"

whilst we sing,
"I Carry Your Heart With Me (I Carry It In)",

love came in at the eye
travelled
through the body
and left . . .

WE POETS ARE LIARS.



                         vargov
Or shall I say they bent the truth to lie...

— The End —