I have a secret
Scribbling in the margins
The poetry of opera halls
Burning drinks of gargled sin
A letter to the editor
Words chosen for us tonight
The opinions of a fool
With only a pretty girl left to recite
chosen
Dimples; The Marks Of The Fairies
Dimples; the marks of the fairies
Their love touched upon the very faces
Chosen to endure above the others
Dimmed, but remaining vague traces
Magic’s residue upon your life
Nature knowing what is true
Selected to be special
Out of all the woods, they settled upon you
Those Words Come To Me In Those Coffee Dreams
Those words come to me in those coffee dreams
A spontaneous marvel of literary delight
There’s a difference between manufactured beauty
& a real beauty, founded by nature’s authentic right
But I can’t explain the nuances with the definition
I’m not one to judge such subjective whims
Focusing on my own qualms & dangling thoughts
Let us sit, pour another cup, let’s solve these problems
I’m not bothered by such trifling issues as rules
Let them worry about my intents & being misconstrued
I let my chosen pages explain all I’m willing to
I’m more concerned if that pot has finished it’s brew
Captain Q 