Tuesday, January 13, 2015


This is not a poem,
It has no rhyme,
Spares no time,
And costs a dime.

Two: It took me a while
For I love words,
I hear them, utter them and take them back.
It's like rolling a carpet,
It goes away from you and then you bundle it back.

I woke up between 7am and 7:06am.
I stretched in bed and said,
'Maybe ten more minutes,'
I blinked and tossed.
I got out of bed with one thing in mind:

Poems do not have to rhyme.
Do not let anyone define you.