Two poems I wrote today and might to submit to a literary magazine
Find the Blind
Through the trees, a breeze,
The buzz of bellowing bees.
In the firmament, a molten globe,
Blazing with a brilliant strobe,
Breezy rays in the air.
Fresh, hardly a care,
Flowing around hair.
Where oh where?
It does not matter.
Nor does senseless chatter.
Only the tune, a bird’s patter,
The sky, a blue and white tatter,
The breeze, a flow on skin.
Not the days that have been,
Nor the days that will be.
It is what you can see.
The rustling of harmony.
Nature’s glowing treasury.
Free within its glee.
Plea for the flowery.
I Hid Me
You said I couldn’t be.
So I hid me.
Behind wicked society,
Devoted in dreadful piety.
Until I found myself hiding,
In that corner I sent me to.
I whispered a gentle bidding:
This is not wholly who,
I had left here long ago to roam.
Leave this safe home,
And come with me,
To see the world out here some,
To be the one here you see,
The one you have hid from.
Let your heart thrum,
And march your feelings to the drum.
This way to the end of your numb.