Past Poetry

My goal is to make sure at least every other post is something from the present, something original. And my last post was. So I am sharing these poems from the past today.

The Poem That Nobody Reads
This is the poem that nobody reads,
Whose words show no forethought or sculpting,
With no regard for meter, or rhyme, or prying eyes,
Or neat, tied up, assessments of worth.
These are the syllables buried
Under the stones and beneath the sheets,
Naked and raw and unchanged.
Editing is forbidden here.
For every word that comes from within is
And nobody reads them.

I narrowly avoided death today
And still I am shattered
And afraid
And wondering how I can be two people
So easily
God………My voice….
It sounds like a wounded animal
I am an animal
A sociopath?
There is no word
I don’t know when the disease took hold
Or how to cure it
Or how to even know when I’m sick
I can’t breathe, God
And no one
Can know
What if I had not
And does it even matter?


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