little things

Non-Sonnet

What is this thing we cannot say?

It’s something felt every day

We share with others and in return we get

When giving too much there’s seldom regret

.

Being with out’s like being alone

A feeling that should never be known

Yet we choose for this word to remain unspoken

For fear of our secrets told and hearts broken

.

It’s just a little word (of many meanings), little understood

And understanding just a little is really very good

If unsure of this word don’t drive yourself insane

Take a guess, there’s less to lose than there is to gain

.

You’ll know it when its felt, for it fits like the warmest glove

And a comfy pair is this word unspoken (that rhymes with above)

 ~

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Forgettable Optimism

When a feeling’s something new, it’s never forgot.

A poem is a feeling, mixed with our thought.

The thought noted, drafted, written and expressed.

 ~

But for every poem expressed others go unwritten.

For those that go unwritten drafts will drift away.

For every draft shuttered notes have gone astray.

For all the notes strewn some thoughts might simmer.

 ~

Some thoughts evaporate and forgotten forever.

Then thoughts forgotten become a feeling of something new

A new feeling never to forget for the optimistic few

*

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Whether to Weather  

A poet preserved by their craft

Today’s storm is tomorrow’s draft

Tonight’s darkness, tomorrow’s light

Time alone is time to write

~

Time without leaves space within

Whether or not we choose to begin

Space’s filled with unchosen weather

That’s why a quill floats like a feather

 ~

Writing out the storms, blue sky always brighter

Showers of tears make the heart feel lighter

Rainbows get a page or two, hurricanes get quite a few

And storms better weathered in a blanket shared by two

 ~

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