Poetry Laid Bare.

Don't ask me to write your way,
Clipped sentences, words that
Leave spaces where thoughts
Should go.

Once I was told my words
Touched another and for
Once she did not feel
So alone.

I know of Haiku, Tanka's
Triolets and Clerihews, I
Play with them, but they don't
Speak for me.

The heart must speak what it feels,
However it comes out, whether
In rhyme or plain speaking
Its still poetry.

I feel the echoes of distant days
When one thought made of it
A song or a feeling that
Resonated once.

In time I've spoken, made my
Dreams seem real, but if they
Are empty what purpose do
They show?

Better to stay silent than betray
Or give my words no meaning,
I could never stoop to that
Or write no more.