There’s such a clarity,
Looking down,
Hands stained in ink.
I Don’t know, I guess I feel
authentically me.
Tag: writing
Am I a poet?
Am I a poet?
Or just some joker
Writing down words
No one will ever see
To satisfy some need
Misguided as it may be
To puff up my soul
Full of self-importance
Pretending some art
I do not have
But soothes some part
Of my myself by whimpering
Into the moonlight
Feigning some loneliness
Of an unearned pain
I do not have the right
Whatsoever to claim.
Or am I just a poet?
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Notches
Jasmine wafts in through
The open windows
A cardinal sits in a tree
The open page on my desk
Cries out again and again
To be filled
Rain starts to fall
Stifles the bird’s song
Trapped, caught in her mouth
Spring is yet to come
written – 2/14/2023
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Purpose
I can feel it sitting there
In the deep, dark pit of me
My story…or maybe stories
Trying to claw themselves free.
I push them down and down
And still they struggle to get out
Free from the darkness
That has trapped them so long
They fight up and out
Into the light for the first time
A few wobbly steps later
They stand tall, breathe, and live.
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look closely enough
Look closely enough at something
It disappears
In its place, formless
A void of what was
What might have been
Look closely enough at something
Stay blind
To the beautiful forms
All around
Step back and look
Listen and see
Be surprised by all that is
Present
Amazing accidents in Life to be found
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an answer to Why?
My constant companion,
Never far from sight,
Always there for just in case,
How rarely you see the light.
An Idea of what could be, a future
For the two of us, you and me.
Grand plans created so alive in my mind.
In reality, likely never to be.
Untold stories trapped,
So many of them locked inside so deep.
Fear of Failure – lies told – doubt of oneself in truth.
Your unblemished pages, yours to keep.
akervand 