They Are Only Words

Do they really matter?
Falling onto the page
The thoughts of only one
May to others enrage

But I am just a poet
And words are my trade
Nothing was ever meant
By what I may have said

Language is a funny thing
Interpretation even more
But behind my trusty pen
Still mightier than a sword

Stoic Poetry ☺️

When Words Cease

Something is different
Something has changed
Realization; the quiet
No thought or rabble
A clarity so perfect
Nothing to be rearranged

Once it is noticed
It seems to fade away
Nothing to be held
Nothing to be sought
A background to all
No one to see anyway

Stoic Poetry

There is beauty in the darkness
A lack of sound; nothing to see
No guidance of poetic thought
Only the purest form of clarity

Words form on pageless pages
Awaiting to see if they are born
Searching for the light of day
And not just fade in the morn

Stoic Poetry

The constant babble
without saying anything
words without meaning
too much about nothing

People keep talking
just to hear their voice
echoed words, nonsense
of Nihilist governments

Stoic Poetry

(A Riddle)

This wordless poem I must write
Hold my final words until the end
Find and pervert the answers
To questions I did not intend

If I cannot see you
Do you remain unseen?
The frost of inner darkness
Stitches in my lips loosening

This wordless poem I must write
You must never wear the blame
Something always left to learn
I will wear this mask of shame

Stoic Poetry

A first breath taken
And I am here again
Arisen with a primal scream
Not yet knowing what it means
As I am born in pain

But I will discover the truth
This time, maybe
I will bide my time here
Watch, wait, and learn
If I must live to be eighty

As long as I have breath
I will search this life
Seeking to understand
In a world of turmoil
Destitution and mortal strife

Stoic Poetry