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T. Lee's Poetry pages


The words reflect my feelings of life's beauty, mystery and passion.


 

 

Traveling

Alone again within myself I drift back
through time and space.
Content I am to let my thoughts
wander to another place
where I can be anything.

A conduit am I for random visions
of times passed and futures yet to come.
I am a beginning for tomorrow, a
hope for what is undone.
And end to what is gone.

I take comfort in this feeling of
traveling alone within my mind.
Ancient I sometimes feel,
floating like this though time.
I don’t want to stop the flow.

 


The Guitar player

Down the street towards the corner bar
he shuffled, carrying his old guitar
and humming songs under his breath.
His pace quickened as he neared the place
as he pushed the door open he was embraced
by the smell of liquor and cigarette smoke.

The patrons glanced over as he walked in
seeing his guitar and the old sheepskin
jacket he wore for the occasion.
He managed a smile and in a voice gravelly yet clear,
said tonight I’m going to play then dragged a chair
to a darkened corner at the end of the room.

He sat with his guitar positioned under his arm.
He rubbed his hands together to make them warm
then slowly started to strum an unknown tune.
He played with closed eyes, lost somewhere in time,
he plucked and he strummed, and with no flow or rhyme
in a dry cracked voice he began to sing.

After each song he sang and played he waited
for approval and applause; a misguided soul not sated.
A lost man  pretending to be a star.
Playing and pretending to the thinning crowd.
Strumming and humming and screaming out loud
to a drunk audience who only wanted noise.  


 

Do I love you?

I watch you from across the room
and my heart beats to the sound of love and drums.
I walk to you on pulses of my desire
and my body aches to feel the fire from your body.
Do I love you?

 

 


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