#btw
When I'm here;
My soul does not stir.
It settles behind closed eyes
And breathes a contented breath...
A summer sigh.
Knowing that the winter will return,
Like an old friend.
Along with the whistling radiators...
To hold to cold in utter contempt,
And to warm my frostbitten fingers.
Jun 8, 2018
Jun 8, 2018 at 1:01 PM UTC
I forgot what BTW stands for . . .
. . . between the wines ?
Oh yeah ! . . . by the way !
Yes !
Too much of yesterdays
and hangover today
Oh yes enough to **** a teenager
Once you start questioning your poetry
you'll be listening to teenagers ,
"You are not using rhyme !"
"Your muse is a dummy ."
You don't write poetry . . . your muse does
Your just the leaky pen
Or in my case the timid typist
First mistake :
Listening to other people
tell you how to write
Second mistake :
Self doubt
Who in the world cares if your poetry
is good or bad . . . that is not
the point anyway
You don't write to please the Queen
You write to no one out there
who might be listening
You write to the shadows
You write to the physical ghosts
that never existed
It is not your purpose to write
anything that pleases anyone else
Yes is best
Just write and write to your hearts delight
Poetry is measured by years
not by the poem . . . bye now
May 20, 2015
May 20, 2015 at 9:59 PM UTC