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“I am the poet of the poor,
because I was poor when I loved;
since I could not give gifts,
I gave words.”
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~ Ovid
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Elfje:
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words
when shared
from the heart
the most rewarding gift
compliment
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Haiku:
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spoken or written
words cannot define nature
her seasons of love
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Poem:
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his feelings could not find the word
love and hate and everything in between
laughing and crying his thoughts unheard
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confused ideas kept in his head
searching for a way to escape
fear kept them from being said
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spoken with an impulsive urge
tripping over his own tongue
from what language did they emerge
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written, over, over and over again
even the thesaurus was of no help
his somatesthesia was all in vain
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eventually silence was all that he heard
his feelings could not find the word.
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ME and the Boss
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This form was borrowed from Robert Frost, “Acquainted with the Night”
somatesthesia: the perception of tactual or gut sensations;
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ME and the Boss Poetry 