Days of peaceful silence Are hard to find Especially for those like me Where silence can change With one stray thought -Kel Dayheart
Overflowing Drought
Creativity is a faucet Sometimes it's turned On for so long the sink Fills and overflows And other times There isn't a single drop For days -Kel Dayheart
His Perfection
Sleek lines Tailored to perfection Not a hair out-of-place T's are crossed I's are dotted My god, my hands itch To reach out And blur those lines Pull of the suit Drag my hands through his hair To leave my mark On his perfection -Kel Dayheart
Derailed
Staring off into the distance Is a fruitless endeavor When your train of thought Is already derailed -Kel Dayheart
Scribble Away
Scribbles in a coffee shop Do not make them Any better, any worse Than those scribbled in my room -Kel Dayheart
On the Tip of my Tongue
When you only have The vaguest notion Of an idea With nothing concrete It's hard to write Similar to trying To capture smoke With your bare hands -Kel Dayheart
Dizzy Spins
You've been running through my brain In constant consistent circles Driving me to overdrive Getting dizzy in this dance -Kel Dayheart
Early Night
Winter for all it's covers in white I associate it with black The deepest black of early nightfall And lowering temperatures -Kel Dayheart
Matchbox Thoughts
I carry a matchbox In my pocket For anytime I need to light My inspiration -Kel Dayheart
Toy Track
Circular thinking The tracks are laid With a pre-programed route No unscheduled stops And if you forget something Worry not because it will Circle back again -Kel Dayheart
Fragment of a Figment 