flowing words that ripples through,
painted pain in the waters
waiting to be
understood.

I wrote a poem
hoping to give
it to you, will you
even read it?

I wrote it with an aching
heart, will you
ever read it?

The poem I wrote
was given a melody,
will you, will you
even hear it?

I am not a singer
nor a great writer
but will you
even hear my
heart?

will you?


© Pax

Ode to the Beat Writers (haiku)                                                                           5.21.10
                                                                                                         by David Ehrgott



And the beat goes on
The keyboard is holy
And the beat goes on




Am Sent.                     Ode to Glare



I'm gonna hide my eyes from the sun with shades today if, that's okay.

well, poetry begins by suspending reason,

unnaming and renaming everything ,

taking apart the small parts and making one big metaphor.

calling a flower your lover,

or pain as a roses thorn,

a smile as the sun,

a frown as a crescent moon,

and of course stars ,

they have to be included,

as sparkling,

butterflies are forbidden in modern poems,

as are roses, to which I alluded,

my bad , though,

I see poetry as anything

you feel deep enough to

try to write a poem about

and makes you feel