poet speaks


Poetry, traveling along on a path

bleeds, stands still, breathes in

looks at stains, tears and memories

decides to sit a spell, gain patience

to continue climbing a hill, withstand

demons and storms.

Words, some decorated to be seen

like medals gained in battle

protecting a heart from falling

to an untimely death, as strength helped

overcome scars, placed now in rhyme

disguised, thinly I suppose.

Poetry, rough to write, soft to feel

by other casualties, littered upon a battlefield

from living and loving, your choice

so here it is, a voice

 poet speaks

burn baby burn

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