I am 35 years old and have been written poems for my self for many years, I am now putting them on line after many years of self doubt and thinking the worst. I would love to have a poem published and see it on the shelf in a book, that would make my year. Even if I made nothing from it. Would be something to be proud of.
Through the woods and past a tree
Through the lock that has no key
Beyond the doorless wall you will find
A shortman, who is tall
...
Love is not for all
For some it may not come at all
One teardropp that becomes an ocean
One word that becomes a poem
...
Come to me, my Firestar
With your wings, that take you so far
Your eyes burn deep into my mind
Inside you will find
...