You can’t think your way
into a poem
Or feel your way
out of a verse
They first must conspire…
your spirit inspired
Words no longer forced
—or perverse
Sandbars
Are you digging a hole
you will never crawl out of,
a prison self-made by your hand
The metaphors mix
as you lie there betwixt
—the bars sinking into the sand
(Dreamsleep: April, 2021)
Hermit Of...
All my friends are
virtual online
Arms-length fraternal,
distance sublime
Safe in my cave,
with cursor in hand
Downloading affection
—beyond all demand
(The New Room: April, 2021)
-
Author:
Kurt Philip Behm (
Offline) - Published: April 12th, 2021 10:23
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 36
- Users favorite of this poem: A Boy With Roses, L. B. Mek
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Comments1
brilliant!
Thanks again!
Kurt
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