Mine words are but broken chopped up letters
of me, you shall not find any sacred altars.
Verses of unexplained nonsense
my emotions become so immense.
My thoughts corrupt and cause me to wander
you ask yourself at times about my poems you wonder.
Silly daydreams fill my mind and drift far away
even if it were possible for me to stay.
Words misspelled and set aside for later
the world needs poetry for its moods to cater.
Abound and rebound you still will see
all I have to offer is reflections of me.
No masterpieces of evolution have I quilled
any words I have spoken this worlds fate
is not altered nor exposed I have not sealed.
I see with eyes of a poet the pain, love, anger,
hatred, death, and birth, yet my penned efforts
still remain just drifting memories of different sorts.
I strike a note in ones thoughts perhaps even a smile
my poetry I have written perhaps my best could line a mile.
All I have to offer is the reflections of me.
Copyright © Peggy Bertrand | Year Posted 2007
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