A poets heart,
Is a very deep well
It holds many secrets,
Some we never tell

We speak in rhymes,
Or metaphors
We write of hope for the future,
Or sadness gone before

We are guilty,
Of feeling things too deep
And pondering secrets,
Life its self has to keep

Poets see things clearly,
That others cannot
We wonder about questions,
Which time, has forgot

A poets heart,
Beats at a different pace
A poets pen,
Defies time and space

We poets,
Create our own written place
We poets,
Are together, our own race

As poets,
We stand apart
And live in the deep well,
Of our poetic hearts

I have done time in the prison of the mind

sewed a blue chip on my  shoulder

left the valley to roam and wander

nurtured a black, tormented seed

gave myself over to a blind man's need


I have done time in the sanctity of the moment

stripped down, undone, naked, free

felt the healing waters wash me clean

nurtured a bright, unfettered soul

gave myself over, finally whole

we are here
to bless                                
restore                    ­                                                              

the broken
holy
whole

mold
peace
from chaos

cradle
vulnerability
with devotion

let our love
be absolute            
unfettered

asking nothing
but to freely
speak

No matter how I tried to beg
Dad put his meds to soak in eggs.

Not liking the resulting sog
He tried to give them to the *DOG!

Blowing silence
like a bugle
to announce his dismay

he got set
to make a statement
without speaking for a day

but his mother
just assuming
he had nothing much to say

sent her silent
revolutionary
son outside to play;

outmaneuvered
in the kitchen
by his mother's disregard

for campaigns
of wild muteness,
the rebellion fell apart

to the sound
of scuffing shoes
and the grumble in his heart

'cause silent protest
tends to lose
when no-one's listening very hard..

I've read the latest wonders
That poured forth from your soul
Your poets beating heart
Has paid the artist toll

I'm always touched by your passion
The very words you pen each day
There is power and compassion
In all you have to say

The heart of a poet
Beats a certain rhythm deep down inside
Bringing meaning to the moment
That others try to hide

With writings that inhale beauty
At the same time exhaling tragedy
You can lift up with one pen stroke
While another knocks down to the knees

There's a rhythmic temperature
That runs both hot and cold
In the heart of a poet
Taking in all of life's high's and lows