It is hard to find words,
That rhymes with the other,
Words that are evidently sweet,
That can make your heart feel warm and tender.

Poets are clever,
They build worlds in words,
That can make you shiver,
Poets, they are brilliant liars.

Choking on what-ifs
And suffocating on memories
You left me buried in a shallow grave
Suffering.

No one to hear my cry for help,
No one to see me,
My screams remain stifled in my throat
Unable to pass my barely parted lips.
No air in my lungs
I remain silent.
Silent and forgotten.

THE SWAN

the male swan graces the water
without any effort, his lithe neck bows supreme
as he plays up his suspect regal lineage, with
tail feathers splayed, he introduces himself by
doing circles around, hoping to impress, seems though
this queen will play indifferent, having a standard all her own


by Michael Perry

I'm hanging on to my life,
Blindfolded, tasting
The sweetness of the rain.
There is a noose around my neck
My feet are tied, and hands
Behind my back,
Unable to move, I'm relieved
Of all decisions and responsibilities,
Only these last thoughts are mine
And they are strangely free.
But memories are racing too fast
To catch even one,
They must belong to someone else,
Maybe I am trying to shut out the pain already.
I can daydream though,
Those moments before wakefulness
Trying to remember last night's dream
Where everything was the same yet different.
Oh the times I have pleaded my innocence
To every stone deaf wall I could find,
But still I am accused of lack of faith
So, one last thing then
The trapdoor to heaven or hell.
I hope no one sees me
And I can slip in quietly somewhere.