From The Backyards Of Our Minds.

In The Backyards Of Our Minds....

Fingers fly as
brows knit
the many lines
and spaces
that offer up
colors that

trap readers.

~
A web woven

o entice
s t r e t c h i n g

thoughts beyond
one's own mind
in a patchwork
of gathered
and treasured
works of heart,
united by
strings of sweat

and tears ,
hung out Online
for all to view......
~


The laundered
and the

stained wardrobes
of a poet's

mind displayed .

~
Sometimes

"All" is used
sometimes

"Cheer"
often one must

"SHOUT" it out.

~
White sheets

flapping, unfurling

in the breezes
of time.

~
Etched with marks
that nights of
dreams have left.....
inkstained and blotted
pencil smudged and
onion skin thin.

~
A basket

of moments
with hopes

pinned high
against the

pale blue skies
from the backyard

of our minds to a

place where

many gaze
upon each others
washed out thoughts.

~
Putting a

spin on them
feeling the blues,
tinting with hints,
bleaching out

the errors,
with an edit cycle
offering encouragement ,
to keep

the closed/lines,
heavy with weighted
words...worlds...

and whorls of color.

~
Do not hamper

these thoughts
post them on

lines stretched
between your peers
and let the sweet smell
of soft sunny whispers
and rain drenched tears
flow over them again and again.
Then file them away
behind the glass drawers here
that hold our most precious
and well worn emotions.

~

~

~

©-MFB III

 

 

 

 

Thought

Thought
ought
not
be fought
when poems
are sought
inspirations
not taught
it can't be bought
it's what you've got
when you must jot
what's brought
when an idea is hot
it's caught
in brainstorms
a lot
and seldom forgot
like dot to dot
poems should all plot
a pattern
that leads to
a finished spot
not some ink blot
that makes readers go
What!!
if it makes no sense
it's squat.

 

 

©-MFB III


 

 

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