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To the poet the truth is reward enough.

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Buddha Home Accents
Ganesha Statue

Expressionless

Buddhist Gifts


Loves Honest Admission

A cryptic clue
Your mind
Keeps me guessing, depressing
Ain’t it
Sad that logic is illogical
Crazy that world
Your mind
That cryptic clue.

“It transpires,” I said, “that you are my love.”
“I am? Why? I can’t be?” you said.
Keeps me laughing, crying.
Ain’t it
Sad that caring is so careful.
I had struggled to emit those words
“You are because I do,” I said.
“Could it transpire that I am yours?”

A confused chasm
Your head
Keeps me down, drowning.
Ain’t it
Sad that fantasy’s reality's nightmare
Deceit in the vacuum
Your head
A confused chasm

Loves honest admission
Has screwed us apart at the heart.
Keeps me sighing, dying
Ain’t it
Sad that love can be unlovable
Tear torn with fear
It screwed us apart at the heart
Loves honest admission.

© Tim Rees

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Shaping Thoughts Drifting

Your words are like shapes that have no form, a tangled web of injustice. You regurgitate experience upon layers of misperception. Align your truth with the poetry of a still soul. Madness is merely a perception of the abnormal. Is your perception of normal aligned with your truth? If I am mad then I am complete in my madness, pained with joy, happy in my sadness. Yet I believe in all our sanity, for aren’t even those who deal out death born unto humanity? Were they not once a child? I ask you to aspire. Seed your thoughts in your conscience. It is there you can listen to your truth.

© Tim Rees

The Poet, he thinks...

 

Arguably, poetry had withered away and all the would-be poets have become singer songwriters or just lyricists. The few die-hards who remained steadfastly loyal to the age-old graft of crafting a poem would, I have no doubt, condemn me for uttering such blasphemy, but whereas the poet was once celebrated by a society that placed the master wordsmiths on high pedastals, nowadays poetry is practiced by a few who gather in dark corners and twitch with the tics of the misunderstood artist. They were so misunderstood in fact, the audience had dispersed leaving just a few lice infested tramps who actually were sleeping off their last binge on the meths bottle and, unknown to the aspiring poets, they were left to recite to each other in whispering madness... But now, of course, poetry is experiencing a small rennaissance and, as I am particularly fickle and vain, I thought I might hitch a short ride on the back of this poetry wave and spreadforth my own seeds of inspired thought...

If you are a poet or an editor of a poetry rag and wish to discover an audience for your inspiration, contact the editor of this website. Should we feel your poetry or magazine deserves a dedicated feature page we will create the page and add it to the website for free. Feature pages of your work can also be purchased or we can link to your own website for a small fee. Prices for a simple text link will be around £100 per year, an image ad around £500 per year and individual feature pages created as part of the website will be around £1000 per year.

Parties interested in advertising need to contact the editor at:
editor@poemspoetry.co.uk

 

 

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Copyright © Tim Rees 2009

Website Created by Tim Rees

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