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Thursday, July 21, 2016

Unheard

How can I call myself a poet
if what I write is never seen?

Unshared.
Unpublished.
Unread.

My poems are mostly still born
living only on my computer
existing only in my balding head.

I have been content
allowing myself to be unheard,
having flattered myself endlessly
as a misunderstood word nerd.

The truth is I am frightened,
afraid my poems will be rejected,
or worse that they are boring
and my poesy disrespected.

Angelou says to trust the universe.
When you put it out there
it finds its way to the persons
most in need.

So that is why I keep trying,
even though no one ever
seems to understand.






1 comment:

hitaakademi said...
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