I once wanted to write a poem of ‘love and hate
Because they were my thoughts
And that was what it was about
My heart formed the words,
So clear true and concise:
But when I put it to thought
My brain shied out of pity.
Once again I filled my pen
And let out to form a poem
And called it ‘The Lusts in Love’,
Because they were my sincere;
Feelings cherished in secrecy,
And that was what it was about.
My silly heart tickled with ecstasy,
And her throbs warmed my being,
Then refused to put much a thought
So my brain would not ponder it.
Then one half-and-half day,
I tried another poem
And called it ‘Absolutely Nothing’,
Because that was what it was all about.
Wanted to ditch it into memory’s tombs
But never got the strength
Since fear, not my unsteady mind,
Was my burying ground.