The Gift of Words



“I am the poet of the poor,

because I was poor when I loved;

since I could not give gifts,

I gave words.”


~ Ovid






when shared

from the heart

the most rewarding gift





spoken or written

words cannot define nature

her seasons of love




his feelings could not find the word

love and hate and everything in between

laughing and crying his thoughts unheard


confused ideas kept in his head

searching for a way to escape

fear kept them from being said


spoken with an impulsive urge

tripping over his own tongue

from what language did they emerge


written, over, over and over again

even the thesaurus was of no help

his somatesthesia was all in vain


eventually silence was all that he heard

his feelings could not find the word.


ME and the Boss


This form was borrowed from Robert Frost,

“Acquainted with the Night”






About merb010

Spring Hill, FL, United States Two nice old folks just hanging out, not hurting a bug or anything larger. The years have been kind to us and we now we are enjoying our golden years reading and writing. We are grateful for the God given talents that we now use to help others. View all posts by merb010

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