This started out as an experiment
Write a few things down
See what happens
Have a few drinks
Tell a few people
Walk around town
and
with my chest out,
and my boots on,
I’d brag about being a poet
I’d claim to be a writer
Pretty much,
just to
get the attention
of one
woman.
What am I now?
A little later in life
Still writing stuff down
Still claiming to be some writer
I just have a blog
That not a lot of people read
Well it’s something,
isn’t it?
Isn’t it?
-C.H.
They say that I have a hard face And that I am guarded They say that I am rough around the edges They say I have opinions And that I am a little different They tell me that I am difficult And that my
I have one friend Who is jealous of my single life With all my dates and stories But he Has a good job And a good wife And a good home And a good daughter And a son on the way He doesn’t see it But I
There’s a poetry night coming up here in a few days But my hands are too shaky to write And my body is too broken to fight My mind is too wild to sit still And my will fell ill awhile ago And the ego
