love it

all that i am
is more than
words
hanging from the tip
of this pen
given to me
by a lover
with the truth
in his heart
and pens to spare...




i have been staring at this poem a few days now. the handwritten version has been sitting on my desk since i wrote it and i keep thinking that i need to do somethingt to it, but every time i get to it i feel like this poem is the most perfect poem i've written to date.
i mean, i happen to think they're all great, but this one...even if, somewhere down the line, the point of the poem becomes moot, i honestly beieve it will still hold up.
anyhow, i have submitted this particular poem to the very bad poetry web site i hope they think it's bad enough - ha! the poem i submitted before almost didn't make it...go fig.