DEBORAH BROOKS LANGFORD

DEBORAH BROOKS LANGFORD

THE ROVING POET’S PEN

A poet's pen is awesome

it never sleeps~

It goes to bed hungry anxiously

ready to wake up and write again~

Wants only to make its thirst quenched when it never can

it holds on to the tomorrows and cannot forget the past.

Writes with love and pain and sometimes hatred

to satisfy the hurt that life can cause~ AND LAST~

Hold that Poet's pen

hold it to your heart

to sing its praises

that cannot take a flight

sings of many sorrows

never to see the light of day

its buried in many hearts

the prisons of come what may~

The roving poet

sings of yesterday

crying of tomorrows

which will never come

the Poet's pen never rests

always cries tears that holds on~

Debbie Brooks (c) 2018

DB

TINY SPACE

This is the only place

I can float in

Feeling tiny

I hate this space

This tiny curb;

Scares me to death

Suppose I shove myself away

In a tiny spot in my tiny brain

There has to be someplace else

That will make me happy again

One-day maybe

We will be ready to lie

Be soulless

You keep telling me

It's the memory of me~

Debbie Brooks (c) March 2018

REFLECTION OF RED

Lost thoughts

The Maiden in the mirror

Used to be me

But the face is to tired

No smiles today

Till she touches her lips

To read her lost thoughts~

The arms come to hold her

Fingers long and sleek

Hold a delicate heart

Of roses~

Untouched by mortal affection

He gave her

Red roses

Of joy~

Yet she knows she must wait

For remembrance

Or fruitless emotion

Of her kindly soul~

Her reflections of

A love gone by

Kisses leaves her

Limbo

Is it safe to fall in love?

Debbie Brooks (c) 2018

DEBORAH BROOKS LANGFORD