You’re not a poet because you know those ‘fancy’ words
You’re a poet because every word you write comes straight from your heart

You’re not a poet because people admire your work
You’re a poet because you write for your own contentment and not for people's consent

You’re not a poet because you feel alone
You’re a poet because pen and paper are your biggest companions

You’re not a poet because you understand emotions better
You’re a poet because you let them flow freely

You are not a poet because you’ve failed in love
You’re a poet because you’ve been in love deeper than anyone else

You’re not a poet because you are strong
You’re a poet because you don’t hide your weaknesses

You’re not a poet because you can heal hearts
You’re a poet because you know what it means to be broken

Trips to fairyland,
bike rides to the moon,
explorations of the woods,
time to weave stories,
words into poems and music.

The keyboard of the piano
invites our fingers
to dance and fly toward our dreams.

Time to grow flowers and food,
to let our smiles bite juicy fruits
under bright skies,
curious scents rolling around us.

Mother Nature enlightens the garden.

The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.

we all  narrate
our own destinies
smoothing the edges of
dubious memory
so we become hero
or victim, as we see fit

we paint our words with
colour and passion
and make some areas
grey or black
shading the story,
so that our heart remains clean

it is only in the small print
foot notes, that we write
codiciles and retractions
that we give a nod to time

the nebulous truth
obfuscated  by time
and the blurred re-telling
becomes the urban legends
of our minds....

our very own fairy  tales
and once upon a times
seen through the
kaliedescope of fathertime

You are the poem
I will never stop trying
to write.

They say I have courage
But I’m living a lie
Voices from years past
fuel the terror inside

There’s room to grow
“Just surrender, just let go”
You’re not living in the past
It’s not your home

The outside world
Looks different, that’s true
but the story inside
will never let me break through

Painful lessons
Just coping to survive
and now you’re suggesting
I have the courage to thrive!

You may think you see
great potential in me
but the truth is
I will never be free

Not until I see
Great potential in me
and the truth is
Maybe I’m just too terrified
to be free