Poetry
Where details dance on blank pages
And cramp like arthritis ridden hands

Like the sweet tune of a songbird
Where words drip from the tip of my tongue,
I glue the jagged puzzle pieces of my mind together
To form flowing lines within sticky stanzas

A Poem
Like a lovely bouquet of daisies
Brought to you by me
A sorrowed writer
Whose words weep
And stutter upon the page
Anticipating you to read

I write words of yesterday
For the stories never end
Now you see inside my head
A vision that lies somewhere between
A world of blissful imagination,
And an unbearable wrath of dread

The Beauty of words
Something not commonly understood
So take my hand and I can guide you
To the land before books
Where the first written verses
Were messily written poems

How could you not be inspired?
With some blank paper and a ball point pen
With a mind so young like mine
I can conquer anything that crosses my path.

Now my notebook pages are ink splattered
With my heart and mind
So lick nimble fingertips
And flip the page one more time