Email Poem

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Personal Note:

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Poem



Like poets of old- writing is my life,
it removes the torment of this worlds stabbing knife;
and if this was my last poem I would be lost,
oh, my heart, soul and spirit would be tossed.
     Poetry keeps memories loudly echoing !

In my mind raindrops cry and weeping willows weep,
and hidden birds chirp, tweet, chatter, and peep;
the cemetery has a deafening silence,
I seek in the engraved names some guidance.
Holding my battered notebook I begin to write,
a poem for a contest invite;
and memories begin whispering and moaning of you,
like a dark cloud that is raining my tears fall blue.
A fair gust blew-   and my filigree words flew,
I am writing the same sorrow nothing new;
over and over and again,
and my pen drips, drips for I am seeking some kind of Zen.
     Poetry keeps memories loudly echoing !
           Poetry keeps memories loudly echoing ! 

I don't want this to be my last-  poem;
but my health is fading, so just in case I must pen a poem !

My heart is shattered, my soul battered, my spirit tattered,
and my thoughts are tumbling and scattered;
to look into my fathomless eyes would break your heart,
for my pain, grief and sorrow has never and will never depart.
If this was the last- last poem-   I would write in my head words,
and release them like fluttering birds;
     Poetry keeps memories loudly echoing !

Oh, how long will my head poems go drifting,
floating, shifting, lifting, falling, crashing,
until-   they and me are no longer existing.

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