19 November 2012

Poetry Pals


I am not a poet.


Let me just get that out there first off.  


But I occasionally write poems.  I used to write them regularly, but then I discovered this thing called fiction and I haven’t been as versey since.  I’ve let my poetry pals go the way of memory.


I was thinking of my old friends that sit in a dusty Moleskine next to my out-of-season clothes and got them down to look over them.  Maybe dust off my innermost thoughts from years past.  After all, my innermost thoughts are exactly what I’ve contained in that battered notebook.


I found a sampling as I re-lived the joys and pains these friends inspire that I thought I could and would share.  Don't judge me because my poetry doesn't rhyme.  That's not the point.  It doesn’t seem too personal, and yet, it sums up so much about me.  I wrote it 15 December 2002.


“Untitled”

I write because I have nowhere to go.
I write to better myself.
I write to express my thoughts.
I write to expose truth.
I write when I need a friend.
I write to be a friend.
I write in joy, pain, sadness, peace.
I write from the depths of my soul
The words of my heart.


Why do you write?  Or if you're not a writer, why do you create?

No comments: