A bottle goes and holds within it a poem
The things I say they
Drift away and then they’re all alone
Float away the bottle goes
Concealing all that I have said.
I hope one day whoever
Opens it thinks it's good enough
To be read.
Good enough for sharing
Maybe good enough for the papers or simply
Good enough to be read many decades later.
People publish poems
Not seen until they're dead
meaning no fame or publicity
Can get into their head.
But we’re all missing something
A really simple idea, that no one shows their poems
When alive simply due to fear.
Like standing naked in front of a crowd
Your feelings on display.
Like speaking every thought allowed
So bottle them up and let them