Words

Construct our world 

Weight, either feather or lead 

A writer’s palette 

Barricade

Sometimes
I don’t know
what to write
seems like
words have curled
away
in fright
because
in order to be
on the page
they must fight
testing which has
the might.

Sometimes
it’s a draw
unexpressed wounds
unhealed
open and raw
reminders of life’s
see saw,

Or
it can be a lose
lose
both walking away
saddened and bruised
sitting on the corner
and drinking some booze.

And sometimes
words make the cut
but perhaps
its better if they
refuse
avoid feeling used.

Etymology

Like seeds, words have roots
Language is a living thing
history changes

Look

Getting clarity

Thoughts on paper, a mirror

Writer reflection

Loft

Notebooks roam in home

Pens like wands make words appear

Writer’s oasis

Change

Joyful spirit lives

Kind words anchored in a soul

Happiness has spread

Building block

Words, language atoms

Construct thoughts

A poet’s paint

Fossils, trace their roots