Lines among the margin Gain the most love As I jot along my ideas With every whim and line Finding its place outside my head -Kel Dayheart
Margins
Happy Birthday William Blake!
My favorite dead, male poet. I have a few favorites; therefore feel the need to differentiate them. Blake is an English poet from the mid- 1750's. He refuse to compromise his personal vision throughout his career; whether for his own writings or commissioned engravings he always stayed true to himself. Although, I am a fan... Continue Reading →
Smile
Guilty by a smile But smiles always hid secrets Just as tears hid the lies Therefore is frowning honest? -Kel Dayheart
Mindscape Escape
Imagination illuminates the mindscape Creating a way for the mind to escape The drab of every day life Or mend the soul after strife -Kel Dayheart
Haiku #14
Sunflower shining Still brighter now than ever Before for a plant
Mother’s Child
Mother Earth has evolved So much since the early days Where Man wasn't even in existence In the early years Lush greens and colorful hues assaulted the eyes With beauty in the natural form Mother Earth at ripe old age Has been abused and defaced By her child called Man -Kel Dayheart
Want v. Need
What's wanted Isn't needed What's needed Isn't there So why want more Than what you need When you can't get All that you needed -Kel Dayheart
Unbreakable
These walls around me Won't come crashing down Anytime soon I've built them too well Once in, it doesn't mean anything 'Cause I'm just as ready To kick you back out again Walled for my protection But it'll harm in the end 'Cause who will try When all others have failed? -Kel Dayheart
My Old Journal
Weather- worn tatters Loved for its memories Though it isn't written there I still remember The first page Used to stand bare Scared to write on But oh so tempting Nicks and bangs Showing the places It has lived Though you won't understand New isn't always better Familiar, old friend Sitting on... Continue Reading →
Numbers
Everything is numbered Everyone is numbered Take the count It's easily done Kept track of And put neatly into boxes Marked, labeled All the same Limited creativity Boxed in our number We lose our power To be more than numbered c-Kel Dayheart
Fragment of a Figment 