Packaged Thought

Benjamin Jenkins, poem, poems, poetry, writing

Words float freely

On the breeze

I am up there Sister


Just count my stars

I have pen and paper

In order to capture


Unwritten thoughts

Into words

Are just those


They get lost

Within the white noise

The static of ceaseless life


Or Better yet

Packed into sound waves

Aimed at the ear but striking the heart


Blown from the lungs

With shot and powder

And a ramrod of breath


I prefer to keep mine

Upon stationary

Able to recall






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