My Work (The Tenses of Time)

Indulge in that smell of a vibrant cookie

I'm just a rookie with the heart of poetry.

At times I get lonely when no one's there

I spread a utensil on white

My mind wants to see.

Whether I rhyme or free verse, or spread a spoken word,

I express my demeanors of times, past, and present

But I leave out future because my eyes don't blink at fate yet

But I can't forget that my love for written rhymes is locked inside.

My refuge is a cocoon, but I don't hide

My deep thoughts that are sought out by discovery's prize.

No need for fleece blankets to cover me

I need the sunshine, the light of day

The moonly stars at night,

Rain to pour down melancholy's way,

And the snow to secrete the whole sight.

Words are compatbile to my human nature

They are like relatable open chambers

As my vocabulary widens I come to find

Fresh verses to say, no rehearsals or plays.

No special pattern is needed

My poetry seeds aren't produced by influence

But  mandating phrases

As moonlight phases capture my emotions

In monthy notions, whipping a sweet batch of my potion.

My sweet gift is God-given,

I may seem gifted, but my rhymes are there for

Life to open ears and listen.

So much for my work of these four times to past

Expressions embedded in my pocket,

Charmed in my locket,

I'll never give up my wrongs when I write.

And if it ain't worth nothing to you, it's worth it in my life

As the past stays the past, present is of today,

Tomorrow's another future.

I embrace this art

A hugging engravement to my heart,

In life I hold onto my past, present, and future.




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