Frank Letras Poems

I’m not looking for great riches
Adventures or cheap thrills
I can’t say that money inspires me much
It’s just something to pay the bills.
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Let the poet do his work
Why don’t you just let him be
Please just leave him alone
For when he’s writing he’s free.
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I spent some time recently
In the shadow of your smile
Resting in the cool space
Between that cold shoulder
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I think I missed the point
When night turned to day
When dark turned to light
When loneliness went away.
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Fewer things in life have given me
The same pleasure as a good book
Although I’ve read some real duff ones
Not even worth a second look
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Maybe inside you
I can find some solace
Maybe beside you
I can be at peace
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The crescent moon floats in the western sky
Like some giant’s discarded finger nail
It’s colour, a pestilent orange,
The blazing sun, having long since departed
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When the moon beyond ashen clouds shows
And morning comes a calling
When the warmth of a fiery sun grows
While the night’s dew’s still a falling
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Nothing so stirs my soul
As the sight of a blank page
Another story waiting to be told
And one in which I shall engage
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Every time you or I
Find something to complain about
Just spare a moment’s thought
For those caught up in the drought.
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