I keep coming back.
In spite of myself at times
penning my rhymes in the night
right up until the early hours,
hopping in for a shower
and heading off to work.
Sometimes berserk; a jerk
of outrageous fortune,
torturing my muse to
respond with something new.
Evey day in April,
every day in November.
And every day in between,
I have developed a keen
poetic sense, relieving
tension, and not to mention
expressing, in a non-oppressive way.
You would think I'd have learned.
Our passions define us. The things that move our souls and puts us in sync with the universe lives within. Music can be the ultimate expression of my heart. But my lyrics give my songs a voice; this melodic poetry of my life. I am driven by the rhymes and rhythms that are the underlying score of my existence. This site will highlight my original poetry and short fiction, as well as my music; the stirrings of my soul that have been long hidden. My observations through the eyes of a poet's heart.
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
TELL ME WHY YOU BELIEVE
I
have
done this
for many years.
Tell me why I’ve never
noticed before. Why is it
even the naughty ones get nice
at this time of year? I don’t mind, since
it means they want to get on my good side.
Tell me why that is? I understand that every child, woman
and man, don’t always believe in me, but I can see the good-
ness in every person. I really do know. It’s a talent passed down
from generations of Clauses. A telepathy maybe, or a knack. A
crick in my back, or a tingle in my fingers. It lingers throughout the year
and I hear a voice in my head that fills me instead with a compassion.
I fasten my belt and get down to business. And my business has al-
ways been Christmas. On the Eve of my big day, the elves load all
of the gifts
in to this
sl ei gh.
Then it’s up, up and away. Tell me why you still believe? I am Santa!!!!!
have
done this
for many years.
Tell me why I’ve never
noticed before. Why is it
even the naughty ones get nice
at this time of year? I don’t mind, since
it means they want to get on my good side.
Tell me why that is? I understand that every child, woman
and man, don’t always believe in me, but I can see the good-
ness in every person. I really do know. It’s a talent passed down
from generations of Clauses. A telepathy maybe, or a knack. A
crick in my back, or a tingle in my fingers. It lingers throughout the year
and I hear a voice in my head that fills me instead with a compassion.
I fasten my belt and get down to business. And my business has al-
ways been Christmas. On the Eve of my big day, the elves load all
of the gifts
in to this
sl ei gh.
Then it’s up, up and away. Tell me why you still believe? I am Santa!!!!!
Categories:
Across the Lake,
Christmas,
I am Santa,
Nov 2010 Chapbook,
Poetic Asides
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