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Very few Words
Thinkin bout puttin down
a few words,
meant for no one certain to be heard.
Thoughts on paper
made from dead trees,
little pieces of pulp, holding deep bits of me.
Wonder what's the use
what's the need,
a few voices expressed and temporarily freed.
A soul let go
a heart crying,
the blood of a spirit still trying.
Perhaps that's all we are
poets screaming,
in a search for a deeper meaning.
These words
very few,
just a brief shot at a human view.
poem
by
Smoky Hoss
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