Tuesday, April 28, 2015


I'm a poet (that sounds odd rolling off my tongue). I felt inspired to blog for the first time in a long time, so here is something different.

Leaves of pages
Ink done
Type set
A smell only when aged
Death by water
Ancient knowledge conceded by internet
Still holding
By the jacket sleeves
Reserved for us
A select many
The literate
Once an elite
Now a commoner
Still waning
But not conceding
This love will be mine
No matter how far-fetched
Thou shall not depart from me
If done
Crumbling ash shall be my name
For once hold still
As I hold on
To world not real
A life not my own
But a dream and wish
Rendered never
But who shall
Leave me and you in the raven night
With a light
And a comforter
To spill secrets
From an editor’s computer
To my small hands

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