Poems & Other Rhythmic Word Bursts
Latest Posts
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Your Hand
(Poem) In the autumn months, when the wind strips bare the tree and a frost bites hard into the ground, I reach to my right quite absentmindedly.
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Babylon is Burning
(Poem) It was written in a peculiar script.
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The Deceitful Thread
(Poem) I wear a shirt of lies, woven by my silver tongue.
I’m not a poet.
I write poems. For the longest time, I didn’t like saying that I did. I felt that it meant I needed to be some great literary genius, and if not, then the poems by default had to be bad. My first poems fell into the second category. However, as I grew as a writer, I felt more confident that my poems could be okay sometimes…I still don’t like the title poet, though. It brings to mind someone who isn’t me. Either it’s someone too self-absorbed to have the humility to know what they are saying isn’t that unique or special. Or someone so gifted that they don’t need to worry if they are self-absorbed because they make perfect prose every time. I am neither of these. Still, I have started to share my poems. I hope they are enjoyable and maybe, just maybe, thought-provoking or at least can crack a smile. Just remember, I’m not a poet.