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Pieces Of My Heart  The I'Lyzette
What I said

Compliments once given intended just for good.
The (gift) they claim that I possess, somehow misunderstood.
Sensing your own heartache, in the poems I write for you.
All a product of the anguish and hell that I went through.

Words of life and light and love, like sunshine in the rain.
Words of hope and faith and joy, one time my words of pain.
Struggling with forgiving me, I felt so all alone.
I tried to hide the tears I cried but had no faith of my own.

Lessons learned and bridges burned, dreaming dreams not meant to be.
Crying out to God above are the things that made me, me.
A gift? Indeed I guess it is, and one I've learned to treasure.
Giving you what's left of me, and giving without measure.

Still I pray each time I write in every single line that's heard.
That you might see inside of me, it's more than just a word.
Before each time I come to you. Before each poem I start.
I'm sifting through and sending you, pieces of my heart.

Edwin C Hofert



Pieces Of My Heart
What I wrote

I hear it said now and then when a poem I wrote is heard.
What a gift I possess when it comes to the written word.
Then one day considering what next thing I might write.
I thought about the time I spent absent from the light.

Times I one time used to pray my next breath would be my last.
All the times I tried to forgive myself for my own past.
Times when hope was lost to me my faith in God was dying.
Times I struggled just to see through tears that I was crying.

All the time I spent alone my life out of control.
Then time I spent with Jesus trying to purge my soul.
A gift indeed I know it is and one I'll always treasure.
And giving back what's given me and giving without measure.

Still I pray each time I write and with each poem that is heard.
That you see even deeper still it's more than written word.
Before every time I come to you before each poem that I start.
I'm sifting through and sending you. Pieces of my heart.

Edwin C Hofert
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