Don’t bury me in a book
Deprived of light and sound.
I want my words to wander
From ear to mind to mouth.
I don’t want my ideas hidden
And shoved upon a shelf.
I want to disturb you,
And make you look inside yourself.
When you’re drifting off to sleep,
I want my whisper in your head.
Don’t shut me up
And close me off,
But dream my
Thoughts instead

© giddybird



Have I channeled these words?
Are they really mine?
Have I put them together
Only one day to find
I’ve read them somewhere else,
Forgotten, and so
Adopted someone else’s words,
And claimed their breath of soul.
What if the rhythm, timing,
Word combining,
Were not of my design?
What I want to know is
Are the words still mine?
If I didn’t know that they were cloned,
Or whispered in my ear?
Have I really created this,
Or am I the fraud I fear?

© Giddybird

Crickets sing the evening in,
Sunset paints a bleeding light,
Television plays the summer game,
While chips and gravy spice the night.
Lawnmower, silent, resting now,
Orange socks hold grass seeds tight.
Holidays a time of rest,
When everything seems to feel just right.

© Giddybird