James Campbell Poems

Time is money,
or so they say.
But yet can money,
buy time the same?
...

A drowsy droop of the eyes,
Until they remain closed,
Still awake,
Thoughts slip from focus,
...

The truth is truth-less, minus the T.
The truth is truth-less, truthfully.
The truth is tried, tested and taught.
The truth lied, was bested and bought.
...

A whispering cold autumn breeze,
rustled the crisp, golden green leaves.
An open blue sky,
free to the cold.
...

Why, when I write,
do I feel I must be smart?
As if some complexity,
would bring added heart.
...

Try

Poe was young once,
Which is precisely what makes it old.
...