The world can be so cruel
on a poet's heart so frail
Sometimes it gets soaked
by the winds that come in Gale
Inspiration can come and go
it's bleeding out like time
Not everyone understands the words
especially if they don't rhyme

My heart is only protected by my Poet's Paper chest
bleeding ink
The words I'm writing down
they don't always make much sense
I keep scribbling

I really want to share
to feel that someone cares
that they understand my poetic plight
my words on winged flight
my tongue I cannot bite
My Gypsy Heart
my fight...
what I might hope...
..... is right

I write that which I seek
knowledge and wisdom deep
secrets that we keep
they crash upon this chest

like the oceans waves that pull me down and under
In clouds where Gods stand
and throw me out their Thunder
My Paper Heart asunder
I grab the lightning bolt

so I know these words they might ReSound
and be quite more profound
in the collective pages of our history

Like art
like all great art
sometimes not appreciated
till after we're gone
And even if someone doesn't know my words
I'm still singing you my song

I hope I do not offend
I don't try to pretend
My Paper Heart defends
by speaking what I am learning

I do not claim to know the answers
I just put some words on paper
and save it in this chest
covered by a vest
I feel I am so blessed
It might be just a guess
these words in ink put down

Soaked in the loving ground

like a time capsule to be opened
one day... if these words don't mean something today
then maybe they will tomorrow
Writing them brings me joy on the pages that I borrow
on my poets paper chest
my words of all my sorrow...and love.



Cherie Nolan © 2016