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This is a section where I post poems sent to me by people who have found my site and wish to display their own works. I hope you enjoy them as much as I do!
This poem is by Gil Estel. I love this poem. It is so easy to put yourself into it and see this world.
Comfort is sitting here now.
In my room.
Familiar surroundings and smells.
No pressures, only silence.
Me; here; alone.
Comfort is my small collection of CDs.
Repeatedly listened to.
No surprises.
I know them all by heart.
The same voices telling me stories
Over and over again.
Comfort is my stuffed bear.
Snowball.
Dingy from years of nightly torment.
I ripped off his arm once.
He didn't curse me for it.
I put it back on.
Not a single cry escaped his woven lips
As I looped the needle through his worn shoulder.
Comfort is my posters.
They watch me.
Every move I make in this room, they know.
I can escape into their world of two dimensional paper
Every now and again.
How easy it must be to be a drawing.
Comfort is my closet.
Always surprising me
When something odd falls out of it.
Maybe a piece of lace,
Or a childhood toy,
Or an old picture.
This brings me joy.
Comfort is my window.
A doorway to enchantment.
I may fly to the top of Clinch Mountain.
Or even farther than that.
I may strike out on a hike across the world.
Never once looking back.
Comfort is my inner self.
My seclusion.
I know me.
I know what I can take,
And what I can't.
Comfort is;
BIO: Hi there. I was rummaging through the internet trying to find some publishing information, and I stumbled on your sight. I'd prefer to go by Gil Estel. Anyway, these are mainly poems that came from spiritual and philosophical questions I've had over the past year or so. The only stories they tell are in the questions they ask.
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