Not for the faint hearted.

Scary treasure.

Reader be warned.

I'm writing intimate tonight.

Not the poem of joy

of excitement

or newness, beauty

or vast colourful vista.

Tonight is just me.

I'll share my thoughts, my emotions and my feelings.

I'm often scared.

But not of things

not distance, not height, not dark nor moths (used to fear them once).

I'm into the Zen of things now.

No, I'm scared when I wonder what you think

about me and these words.

I'm a man poet teacher husband father

but I don't know what it is that you think.

And that scares me.

Reader

should I keep wondering?

Questioning myself?

Questioning you.

Questioning worth.

This may be uncomfortable.

Rest easy 

it is not about you.

I like my poems and I'm proud that I write and publish,

but care that you don't like them.

Careful here, you may end up with nice words and poems.

So I prefer to hide behind the words and use them as a screen.

I can pump the words out fast, as I go.

A western quick-,draw crossing the street

hat down covering the eyes.

The words can take a shape, they can camoflage,

they are a cloaking device

as good as a hi-tech fighter jet

I think and then think again;

they shield nothing,

drip off my tongue but

they don't fool you.

They screen off time, questions and sometimes people.

You're in the circle tonight and lucky,

I don't step out from my screen very often.

Greetings from this

man old poem new.

I love my family

my wife

my boys. 

They are my treasure. You may not have my treasure.

You will have to seek them out yourself and ask them for that privilege.

I have shadow but I don't share that except face to face when my screen and yours are down

and you don't want to know.

I know.