Jerry Golden Poet Free verse

Your Poets Eyes

Hours become distressed and tiresome
In all your filth 
You were some what admire some 
You took truth and distorted it 
Right before this poets eyes 

I was an idea stolen
A compliment sealed with in a comment 
I wandered about 
In a young mans season of doubt
I wrote sing songs
To sing my way home

I was a walk of lies
Before I became this poets eyes
I couldn’t tell her goodbye 
So I wrote her a note 

Accustoms of a hopeless man, shy
I couldn’t tell her the truth 
So I whispered to her good night
Eased away her helpless sighs

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Edward Orozco April 8, 2009 at 11:09 PM Nicely written =)

Catia Davis April 2, 2009 at 10:55 AM wow that was amazing!

Carolyn Devonshire March 31, 2009 at 12:29 PM Jerry, this is a deep and heartfelt poem. I have always liked your poetry, never found it to be "sing songs." You're far beyond that. Thank you for the Soup Mail. I thought this was very well written. The last two lines are incredible. Love, Carolyn