The Last Song of the Anonymous Poet

Image by George Hodan

Words are not mine
Hear’em with closed ear
They’re just temp friend
To go with hither and thither
And to include lives in frame

Words are not mine
Read’em with blinded eye
Arrows aimed to bosom
Tender bleed to pieces
Dispassionate dither in silence

Tight-stretched heart pierces the easiest
With’em posing lamb
It takes time and persistence
They’re just not mine
Come about’em with scrupulous pacing

I hate shortcuts to the fields I own
Words are not mine, I’m no Shakespeare
Nor Jeremy, nor Elijah either
I’m myself, unknown yet to my pen
The last song of the late anonymous poet

I lost the past, present held in custody
I, the feast in nights of sorrows
The path is blur, still I can smell the destiny
In the world of silence I will reside
Words are not mine, I am the word