I've had enough
of the words of rhyme
Locked away behind
the bars of stanzas
doing time

All the hopes
and wanna be dreams . . .
Just more nightmares
with chilling screams

No I had it !
and I don't want anymore
I don't want someone knocking with words to implore

Go take your metre ,
Yellow pencils number four
I don't want to hear you
knocking on my door

You can go post
and share with the world
Shelly , Keats , Byron . . .
They all make me feel sterile

A sonnet for your bonnet
Haiku for beret
You can put a quill to it
Go have your good Shakespearean
day

miles mean nothing to a heart that is pure
words penned in grace, sent to ether
give heartease to the overstretched
sowing stiches of understanding
in tapestry threadbare

little suns and stars
shining bright in love and hope
from face unseen and adirondack chair
gives strength to one down, from down under
allows grief, the words needed the abilty to care
for these simple gifts, no payment required
from the heart open to care...

I want to erase that ugly line.
It’s not seen but it’s there
Between you and me
Day and night
Deep down
Eating
Thru
Us!
You
And I
Created
And allowed
That line to grow
And build between us
A rift that makes us enemies
Drifting away as two islands!

When people ask me
Why poetry
Why not pick a paying profession

Take hold this truth
That I'm laying on you
In which there is a valuable lesson

If you do what you like
You're going to find
Life holds treasure in wonder

Instead of the dough
Taking you out in its tow
And then pulling you under

When you're doing things
Think more the gifts they bring
And not money to be made

When people ask me
Why poetry
Do I really need to say