The cycle of life;
The journeys we traverse,
etched in our bodies:
tattoos of the well-lived
loved and even loathed.
That’s a full life, isn’t it?
Leaving traces of our existence.

Your poetry is quite stunning, yes I do believe.
I love your quotes, your prompts, your personal histories.
I know you’re a creative and I know you have the keys.
That unlock the zone of all creation where our souls often meet…

Oh dear.
Please forgive me.
I read the most soaring poem.

Yet my outstretched hands.
Can’t quite grasp the prize.
Of making sense.
Of my mind’s eyes.

I’m not really cruel,
I’m not really nice.
But my inner self.
Is as cold as ice.

The world looked blurry
Like a background in a movie
All I could see was you
But once I closed my eyes
I awoke alone in my room

One September day.
I spied a poem
Written by me
I wasn’t alone.

Finally, recognition.
After all these years
It’s been a long time coming.
Something’s taken away the tears.

Ninety Eight people.
Have read about me
Something, I, wrote.
For fun and for free…….

A drunken god has
spoke you into existence
A stolen diary that told you,
it’s a sin to return this body
even if its weak bones
couldn’t carry the weight
of your heavy heart

I know I can speak myself out of it
With a blade in my hand
standing on the edge of the stage,
I’ll wait for the Almighty to sober up
and watch me steal his role

After twenty years of rehearsal
I’ll play god,
lights will go off,
and curtains will close

Your followers will clap in awe
at my convincing performance

As I bow before them
As I fall before you

My mind is racing…
Around right now.
I’m easing off the gas.

If I don’t slow down, I won’t remember it.
It’s sad I know, I’m way ahead of you…..
Maybe I’ll stop and listen.

NOTE TO DALE 9-8-24  RIP - for a friend I never wanted to meet, but did. Sorta....