You fill our hollow frames with song
the eternal landscapes of our hearts

You give of yourself and unity reigns
weaving souls into the fabric of love

You give us a share in singing with joy
poets who dance to the beat of a drum

Drumming we conceive our songs
plucked from the womb of your heart.

How many of these old notebooks
have I thrown away?

How many times have I told myself
that I’m not worth putting down on
paper,

that hell,

I’m hardly worth putting down?

I keep picking them up,

99¢ at any good pharmacy.

$1.25 at an office supply store.

No matter where I get the pulp from,
it’s medicine.

Any time I doubt it,
pitching them
is fever.

Tylenol won’t work,
only ink.

*

- JBClaywell
© P&ZPublications; 2017

Almost..
So close..

Firewalk..
Burnt feet..

World record..
Malfunctioning machine..

The best of the best..
Got disconnected..

Beautiful poems..
Looked on over..

Singing songs..
Kicked out of the band..

Publish soon..
10,000 dollars short..

Fastest runner..
Sprained ankle..

Singing voice..
Everyone hates my songs..

Storyteller..
Afraid to share stories..

Almost..
So close..