the way of words

I’ve slipped back into poetry lately. Writing it, reading it. It’s the best medicine for those times when your brain isn’t really thinking as well as your heart is feeling. But because of that, poetry is extremely vulnerable – especially for those of you that can read between the lines.

So, to ease back into it, I’ve done a slight rewrite of a poem I wrote in December 2008. The writing has changed, but suprisingly, the sentiments haven’t.

Where can the words come from
When you need them the most
I hope they spill like rum
Or better yet, a champagne toast

Do the words come smooth and gentle
Do they seal pain like a bandaid
Or will they make the wound bleed
Could they even be the blade

But words are surely like truth
They’re meant to be spoken
Unraveled and revealed
They’re a virtuous token

Then why is it so hard
Why don’t the words come easy
Even though they’re like wind
Paragraphs have never been breezy

The gust of them lifts you up
Then drops you back down again
I think they hate me a little bit
Will we ever be friends

Words are life
Taking flight

I just can’t decide whether to let them win
I ask myself this question every now and then

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