Words Of My Soul

Where do the words come from
That express my life
My hope
The essence of me
That my soul spits out
Not sensible but making
oh so much sense

Not so much as joy and
Fleeting moments of happiness
Wrapped up in relationships and
Memories and
I don't want my life to be over

I want to live for the now
And for the future
And I want my words to flow
To tell stories of my existence
To dump the essence of my soul
With reckless abandon

Where do the words go
When they leave my mind
Do they frolic and
And cavort with intent
So that a piece of me
Makes oh so much
Sense to another 

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  1. Words. May the connect and heal us.

  2. I love it, Denise. Your poet's search for the source of his words and tales of course is from deep within, his soul. You tell it very nicely.

    It did remind me of a similar poem that I wrote connecting the soul, tongue, and roots within
    Giving of what's within me is my goal.
    Those body parts three all work together,
    my soul, my tongue, the roots down deep.
    Forgive me if I ramble.

    I did give more emphasis to the constant tongue than its source of info, the soul.

    1. Jim, I'm glad you enjoyed this, and I'm particularly glad it reminded you of something you wrote. Thanks for reading and commenting.

  3. OH YES, It makes such a lot of sense. I feel like this often too!

    1. Hi, thank you for reading. I appreciate your comments. I am glad it made sense.


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