DRAFT: This module has unpublished changes.



Poems are secrets.

Brought to light, or

Hidden away


Writing them down will make the words stay.


From the deepest,

Darkest depths of one’s soul,

The words bubble up

To their intended goal.


They churn,

And burn,

And yearn

From inside


Then pour out on the page, like mud from a landslide.


Or like holy water,

Clean, and pure,

Or like worms on the hook of a fisherman’s lure.


However it is,

The words find their way out,

Words of love, words of hate,

Words of passion, or doubt.


Light-hearted or stern,

They can be anything,


But mostly poems are secrets,

Secrets of the soul,

That have taken wing.


April 18, 2013



This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License. To view a copy of this license, visit http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/4.0/.

DRAFT: This module has unpublished changes.