Did I Ever Tell You?

Stop Wait Listen Did I ever tell you, about the laughing Jester? The one who lets his jokes fester? Or the girl with the stars in her eyes the one who left under October skies? So many Stories So many tales so much to learn so much to sea much sea to see So much world to explore! Many books to walk in read through talk to Did i ever tel you about the crying mother? Whose daughter left her for a violent lover? Or the one of the heartbroken daughter? who was raised by an abusive father? Art is expression has no need for discretion Words for a story astounding gory Words for a poem to remind the soldier of home tear-drop stained pages of tear-drop stained lives Hives of existence Barren of self- expression of story of song of art of heart Did i ever tel you about the prisoner of war? He got letters from his lover which made his heart soar But sore was hi heart of distance far apart so he crafted his letters each one a piece of art Stories tel tales Poems tell emotions Words, splattered on a page sometimes to crass for young age Did i ever tel you of the mighty dragon? who had stolen the kings wooden flagon? He set it aflame and ran for shame for fire is passionate secret precious Lives come and go as easy as river flow each winking out of existence for instance: Murder,rape, horror tragedy; mother and would - be brides crying out at would-be lives But wait it's not always late a shining beacon in the blackness hope overcomes despair Did I ever tell you About the story of the long forgotten brother? Whose might was rivaled by none other? or what about the time in which a stitch saved number nine? There are many voices still yet to be heard There are many dreams still yet to be lived there is still yet so much color to be painted Did i ever tell you about the suicidal boy? who had no hope and had no joy? Did i ever tell you the sweetest thing? it feels like summer and tastes like spring I have so many stories to tell joke to laugh at tears to fell Life's not over yet so use it as canvas; your pencil; your paper. Tell your story live your story dream your poems on clouds of alabaster without need of these walls of plaster.