100 poems/52 weeks challenge’ 2018
I take on words
and they are the figments
of people that had spoken them.
I have to play with them
what I truly ever feel,
and it is like cooking with limited ingredients,
although the pan had always been burning.
The words leave the lips
and sting my fingers,
and I know mid my cherry coated laughter
that it was a goodbye
filled with a tuna fish,
when all we thought we were doing,
was baking an apple pie
for two five year olds
Adam and Eve,
yet again, perhaps the serpent deceives?
and lick off the salt
till my ears boom
with the words, that men do not say
with the words, that are left for poets to make.