Let all my writes be poetry
If those are not the songs
Let all my poems be words
If they don't get any rhymes.

Find out the meaning of my pen
If you don't get the melody,
If you really wanna sing along
with me, then sing you, buddy.

If you don't see any imagery
in the dream of my black ink,
Then paint some dreams, dear
as you do in your own poetry.

The dream what I'm knitting
with my love and passion,
If that makes you smile
then I will be happy again.

If you feel better with my lyrics
then sing or else hate vulgarity
I could be your favorite poet
If you give me a place in your heart.

masks are like weapons
evade air droplets and dust
be a survivor
5/8/2020

There are more poets
than coconut trees

Don't stab a dead body

even if it is of your sworn

enemy.

I must've been faster
than a speeding bullet

more powerful
than a locomotive

and able to run between
the drops of rain

it gets farther away
with time

the life I narrowly
dodged

and with my memory
much foggier

then it used to be
all I can recollect

are the strips
of paint

dangling from the ceiling
like swords

Whit Howland © 2020

Here I am on top
The air is bright-sharp and clear
But you've gone elsewhere

Listening to Irish bands
Possibly a kind of warning
    Sons of the Morning?