“Bookshelf”

the titles reached up high,
the mountains of fantasy
dominating the upper reaches
in long stretches of hard-to-say
names and strange england-like
lands, then came the crime
in black-and-white city streets
and men with eyes too haggard,
then bright-souled coming of age
novels, asking for optimism and love.

at the bottom sat the poems
tucked into notebooks.

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“These Dark Walls”

These dark walls dash dreams
dealt to me by cold fate
through fear-filled fever-thoughts
by forcing me to stop and wait.

They block the bad and break
the good through ill-thought need
left to bounce and bound within
my head and make me bleed.

Imagined needs now unheeded
by the softly scribbling pen
within the newly broken walls
never again to barrier-block
away the dreams of many men.