What Do I Do With My Words

leave-1522005.jpg

What do I do with my words
How do I contain when they start to leak
Like the Little Dutch Boy
Who’s listening when I start to speak
But I can’t worry about the audience
I’ve got to keep playing my own tune
The steady groover with the proper notes
When it comes to our hearts, no one is immune

Excuse Me, Miss

books-1163695_1920.jpg

Excuse me, Miss
I need help between the books
You look down your glasses at me
Don’t worry about their errant looks
You’re dressed mighty nice
I think it’s by the back shelves
It seems I’ve gotten us lost
Oh my, I think we’re by ourselves
I pull you in close
A hand sneaks under your skirt to play
You moan aloud; onlookers’ smile
Apparently we’re still on display

 

Image by Eli Digital Creative from Pixabay

Those Words Come To Me In Those Coffee Dreams

tea-party-1001654

 

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