A POEM

these are my poems all i may or may not be proud of as much as i use to think for they hold old memories, but they are there, born by my hand, none the less, and with saying so, they too desurve

Broken backed teacher of the past

Teach me to write

Teach me to let my poems be precise

Teach me the ways of beauty through the written word

Teach me the ways of the poetry of glory

Teach me the love within the fields of roses

Teach me all the ways.

 

“Young one, the words are there

That which I teach

Could only put you in a box

Your words are yours to keep

Let them be free on their own

Let them be a part of you as you are a part of yourself

Let them flow with precision and beauty themselves

And, in turn, you teach yourself to write.”

 

In that case I shall write every verse

I shall whisper the words of the universe

Tell tales of unknown stories

And forget my boundaries

For words have no limits within this existence

For words make me a writer

I am mealy writing what lies within

A servant to the written word

A servant to each of my poems.

Reviews

[Jenny Nelson]

Looking forward to reading more. Your thoughts are spot on. I can only write what I feel regardless of what I want to put down on paper. I think that makes for a much more relatable, honest piece. I prefer to "feel" what I read, write, and listen to as well. Truly insightful piece.