Thursdays Are For Poetry: The Beginning

Thursdays will now be for poetry... at least, on this blog. And I'm dedicating each Thursday poem to Kim P., who says that in hell, she would surely be forced to listen to poetry.

Measure the need

measure the speed

happiness, every inch will bring.

Lock it inside

with your love by your side

while the rain falls

falls down with ease.

Ticking of clocks

rising, falling of stocks

tell of hours we waste away.

While the cool breezes blow -

this won't last, you know -

we'll keep to the insides of ourselves.

The prison of years

is a prison of fears

pressed upon by yourself.

And in the presence of free

you've not learned to be

more than they told you, you were.

__________________

We'll drive for miles 

just to walk this porch

to pray these prayers

cast out hope

that you can find

truth about yourself

truth never told you

lies exposed

stones fallen from hands

prison doors flung wide.

Measure the years

measure the fears

find them fallen short.