My Little Secretes,

I love to set and write

whatever comes to mind,

perhaps I just love to pen down

my own feels of inner secretes,

 

I rarely know what journey

my mind will take me on,

I set at my desk and put paper

And my pen to my hand

And I just start to write,

then hours later I reread my work,

 

Sometimes I get so amazed

With myself and the things my mind

Comes up with at times,

It’s funny because I had never called

Myself a good writer,

 

But I will say;

I do work at it because it is something

I truly love to do,

I pick up my pen,

Looking at my note pad and start all

Over again just to see what I will write next,

 

My mind stars too travel to places

Of all kinds, even places of the unknown,

Dreams that has never been told,

Words that has never been written,

My mind I call a gift from God,

My heart is very beautiful,

 

A heart that truly values who I am,

a place I love to go when I want to read

I pick up my book of Shakespeare,

when it comes to my writing

his word flow in my mind to his time,

My thoughts started to take me far

Yet, near of long ago,

a time of '' SHAKESPEARE.''

I felt as I was right there with him

But he was trying to teach me how to dance

Show me romance,

He was even trying to show me Love,

Oh, that’s when I had to take a breather,

 

Oh, how I love his words,

He is the writer who truly touched my heart,

who touch our hearts.

my mind jump to another time

even a time of my own gloom

I would cry in my own blood stain ink

And let my pen bleed,

Oh, the secretes would just roll but I never told

many thoughts come to me,

I never know where it will Roam,

 

Turning from the unreal world of dreams

or to a present moment of reality,

If my mind has held a time of my own

thoughts of secretes,

than it will revile them to you

No I don’t think so,

when I have time to write

oh, how it takes my mind off everything else

just to write for all to read.

 

Poetic Judy Emery © 1990