it is sad when the poet runs out of words runs out lyrics to sing and the chambers of thoughts once over flowing are empty then the poet isn't a poet any more and slowly begins to die
Tag: poem
Broken Beaches
The beach was broken. There wasn’t much of a shore to explore At least at first... Further on the path Around the bend And through a mangrove forest There was some sand for my toes. And waves to rinse away All the residue that has been clinging To every step I take, weighing down Thought, …
Comfort
Comfort found in the bottle isn't comfort all at or so they say and plead their case though looks and passing remarks Comfort found through lies and sweaty deeds isn't comfort all at so let me take the comfort that is honest after all, I can't lie to a bottle.
Reasons
You know I don't care if you like my verse Though I will admit it is nice I don't write it for you or your approval I write for the fear that I will drown in a sea of ideas I write because of I fear the words would burst out of my chest and I …
It is
Love, they say should never hurt. Never make you cry or cut your soul, Maybe those that say it have never been in love, Cause love hurts and burns us so everyday Love cuts you so deep and fills you with so many desires You don’t know which way is up And which way to …
Washing
I miss reading my poetry to you letting my words roll over you before they hit anyone else knowing that sharing them with you meant something to us both you said you loved me but there were so many things not working and the two things that keep my heart beating You and my work …
Another Momma Song
She gave me life, She never let me know how insane I was, Or made me grow mean instead of up, She still takes me to the dentist, And lets me get teddy bears to hold and cuddle, She laughs with me, and loves my friends, bears with my animals, She talks and cries with …
but sometimes it’s easy
A bit of poetry to give you some hope...Thank you to Chester Maynes.
Talking to Myself
I spend a lot of time talking to myself. Day in Day out. I tell myself stories. Sometimes they are good stories. Other times they are just ways to the time and I don’t mourn them when I lose them to memory. Lately, I have been telling a lot of stories and they have making …
Here’s to Momma
Here's to Momma, Who said no, To letting a man who didn't love, her anymore stay in her bed. Here's to the Momma, Who said no to moving, going back home, And kept her kids in their house, worked two jobs to do it. Here's to the Momma, Who came home when her daughter, scared …
Lucinda Rose 