Piles of papers
Piles of notes
Filled with my writing
Words that I wrote
Words that had leaked
From my head to my pen
Maybe someday I’ll post them
Right now I don’t know when
Some words have no meaning
They’re different from the rest
The question I am faced with
Is will they stand the test
It doesn’t really matter
Much at all to me
Maybe when the time comes
I will hear their silent plea
I’ll put them in a poem
For all the world to see
I’ll show you all my poetry
You’ll then see the real me
©Walt Page 2018
Walt's Writings 
Great poem!!!! 🙂
LikeLike
Thank you!
LikeLike
Great words Walt, And throw us all the old words too, I’ve been delving and dabbling into my old archives since I started blogging, and a lot of fun editing and rehashing them.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I’ll be doing that in the near future ☺
LikeLike
Excellent
LikeLiked by 1 person
I’d love to read some of your older writings. I’m fascinated by how a writer develops over years 💜😊
LikeLiked by 1 person
I love it! The image of the poet spilling out his heart and soul through ink onto piles on pages. Wonderfully written especially since it’s about you 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you so much Kayla Ann, you are such a sweetheart ☺💛
LikeLiked by 1 person
You only have one life. Put all out there.
At worst…proudly embarrass yourself.
I do every day.
Have a great day Walt.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks Forrest, you do the same ☺
LikeLike
So well penned, Walt. I feel the essence of a poet’s world truly.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you Devika, I know you do.☺
LikeLike
A secret trove squirelled away then eh.:)
LikeLiked by 2 people
Aye, a few years worth ☺
LikeLike