The Shy Words

the poetry I really feel
remains inside,

on occassion, if they decide
these words themselves
no longer hide.

but if they choose to not be free
please do not think less
of me.

for one day soon as you will see
they’ll all come out


Sand (idea for a poem)

what was this sand before
it filled the hourglass
are there parts of mountains
measuring this past
like ripples on the morning shore
left golden by the waves
the grains that fall into what was
show time cannot be saved

Dream Stream

there are faeries in this brook
who hold my desires under key
so when my pleasures float downstream
the thoughts which build them you can’t see
they keep them safe until the day
I reveal myself to thee
and hold their tongues on my behalf
while I debate what is to be
with each soft dream I dream of you
inner secrets I compel
to the wee folk in the stream
lock them away and do not tell.