All I Have Is My Words

They say; a word is just a word, but I think writers know better. To a writer letters and words are a gift given to us, so that we can make sense of the senseless. With them we are able to create great stories; stories of love, hate, desire, fear, life and of so much more. If a word is just a word, how come they are so important to us? How come they do hurt us? How come they do sooth us? How come they do make somewhat of a difference?
With the following collection of poems I hope that you too, dear reader will question the saying; a word is just a word, for it is not just a word is it?


19. The Late-night Lady

Framed eyes of frigid steel.

More than desire men will feel.

Plump lips so lusciously red.

She will lure then leave you dead.


Slender as the blackest cat.

Never will you see her sad.

Extended legs so spidery long.

As the sirens she shares her song.


Bound by muttered mystery.

A loud echo of ancient history.

Women call her fiercely shady.

She is the illusive late-night lady.

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