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Never Say...


Some think

That

They are are better equipped

To tell a story well

And for that, I ask for your forgiveness in advance

IF one must be literary

In order to be considered poetic

Alas these words shall not fall short

In the longest hour

For what are words if only, this, words

The pattern for which one’s heart beats is rhythmic

So why can’t

One’s words be

Rhythmic as the beat of a drum

From this we learn to keep time

Yesterday

I discovered something wonderful

My words

Yesterday

The sea made up its mind

And swallowed me whole

Thus allowing me to be brought back alive

Washed anew

Cleansed by

Holy Water

Yesterday

I

Discovered

My soul

For this I, I was only told of

But, never knew

What is poetry

Without

A bit of pain

What is a drought

Without

Without

The eventual drop of rain

From both so much can grow

Someone’s

“You can’t”

Has driven me

To say, “I can and I will”

My haikus

Are not structured in patterned syllables

Instead

They are gently laid on tracks

That move thoughts from your

Brain and into your heart

Perhaps inverse if left to their own devices

Whom amongst us is abstract

Picasso’s love child?

No one stands and embraces this honor

Yet, YOU stare at a page and wonder

Am I abstract

Are my lines drawn in a way

Which allow all to see its

Beauty

What IF

But for a moment

Beauty wasn’t in the eye of the beholder

What lies would be told

(Chuckles)

What lies are being told

Today, I was told, “You won’t…”

And I sat within a dark room

And “I did…”

For with light you can find your way

However, in the darkness

I searched

I searched

I searched

For a way

A way

To

Your eyes

A way to the light

For what are words

Without a message

Inversely what is a message

Without words

Now the question is

Whom amongst us is literary

So literary that they do not feel

Nor shed light upon their every word

No one

And for that

We are all

Poets....


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