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 May 2019 Melissa S
phil roberts
Hello
It's me again
It's the early hours and I'm slightly drunk
And it's me again

He has the sins of his mind
Which keep him warm inside
Amidst the weary and the wasted
Such warmth keeps him alive

Restless
I've always been restless
I hate to move yet I can't sit still
Hours are endless

There is a thrush inside his head
An agony of wings
Panic beaten thrashing
A cage of singing things

Anxious
Still always anxious
Even though I've slowed right down
This edge is ageless

Laying low and watching
A million sub-plots hatching
Paranoid and paranormal
He scatters to survive

                                     By Phil Roberts
This is an old poem that's been in need of a title for a while.
 May 2019 Melissa S
Traveler
There existed no switch to turn it off
No such component in a Poet's thoughts
The deepest of meditation
Is but a Poet's contemplation

Words bleed from all we see
Beauty, laughter and sorrow
Forever set poetically free
My Friends!
This is what we were meant to be!
Traveler Tim
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