since you never asked
my soul is not for sale
the sky is filled with words
and i love to sweep
my heart has been broken
more times than a promise
look at me sideways
and i’ll disappear
most days i want to change everything
most days i wouldn’t change anything
i walk a plank of wooden nickels
and who i am has no value
i live on vowels fished from waves
in the sea of repetition
censorship is a dark cloud
raining false vanilla
my broom is not for sale
the words are filled with holes
and i’m in too deep
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A poem a day for 30 days, in honor of National Poetry Month.
This post is part of NaPoWriMo.
Also joining in with PAD (poem a day) over at Writer’s Digest.
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April 4th, 2014 at 9:31 am
Simply beautiful – every verse sounds wise and profound and timeless like a proverb.
April 4th, 2014 at 9:55 am
i like the way you sweep. never ever sell that broom.
April 4th, 2014 at 3:28 pm
So interesting. I think we writers walk on tender ground. Is my soul for sale? Well, to answer that would be to get up from the ground, knees bleeding, and try to find the desire to speak.
April 5th, 2014 at 8:44 am
more times than a promise…and how that plays on the wooden nickles later….
yeah i been broken a time or two…
i love the living on vowels fished from…
i wont sell my soul either…
April 7th, 2014 at 10:07 am
One of my favorites…
“i live on vowels fished from waves
in the sea of repetition
…….
my broom is not for sale
the words are filled with holes
and i’m in too deep
I feel myself in this poem. thanks.