My Ink

My ink

My vision

My soul

My words exposed for all the world to see

Color blind

No boundaries

Everything exposed

My world in a few short lines

Bits and pieces of reality ripped from my soul

My ink



Simple to some

Dismissed by others

Not true poetry

Awkward in form

The words don’t rhyme

My ink

Not Dickenson or Poe

To hell with that that’s already been done

My ink

Good or bad

Think what you want

It’s me

Who I am

And in reality true poetry cannot be defined

For It comes from the soul

And is written from the heart

My ink

My way

To hell with what the critics think…


The Edge

Climbed to the top
No looking back

Eyes forward
Toes on the edge

Finally the courage
No backing down

Stepping forward
Into the wind

Scars exposed


Into the abyss

Forgotten soul

Will never be missed…