For the poets



27/12/2016 A Christmas gift of thanks and camaraderie to any and all of my readers

These sea shells,

so precious, shiny and rare.

Pieces of me that I show you

though you do not care.

Too many eyes reading me,

perhaps I should not show,

anonymous though I am

faceless... but for a google search.

I don't want to be famous,

I just want to write.

And though I could write to me

purely and simply to me,

I write to you,

my words are a message

though I do not know why.

I must tell it to you.

To you whom I may never meet.

I like you, reader.

I like your brain rolling over my words,

like a sponge, picking up debris

off a kitchen counter.

I will leave my imprint in it,

my footsteps will walk across

the barren landscapes and mountains

of your imagination.

And I shall leave Robisms there,

no narcissist am I...

but I shall trail my pretty words,

my ugly words...

All my fears, loves, hates and revulsions

will snake their way

into your psyche.

...and we shall




and shudder together.

Our raised fists will shake

like reeds in the winds of change

at all the wrong

in the world...

and together, in our poetry,

we shall write it better.

Like a kiss...


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