I write poetry and stories when I have a minute to spare, here for inspiration. Criticism is welcome :)
We're all so young, fresh and free. Life isn't to be taken so seriously, Or literally, Or critically. Only mysteriously Deliriously, And most of all; Fearlessly..
Find them in crevices, Out of the blue. Find them on staircases, Paired up in two. Find them in suitcases, Worn in by few. Limited traces, To the next odd clue.
A constant plea,. Of tired limbs. And weary mind. Weighted eyes,. And thoughts unwind. Consciousness, I'm afraid. Is hard to keep. As I slowly, and surely. Drift back to s. l. e. e. p.
The collector of letters Lines and lyrics, Finds a word for every gimmick, Devises a plan, his mind, Terrific. More and more, he's not specific.
I looked to the stars, And thought 'How monstrous, How limitless How wondrous' How my problems seemed To leave me To hug me tight And float away. In the form of a thousand stars, Planets, And moons.
You will find me pressed in the page, Seething. A familiar cage, Of tumult Of love You will befriend me As push comes to shove, Of pages and pages Turned by thumb. No kiss before I go It is finished.