I am poet.
I have written words
that make me giggle,
tinkling laughter one hears
on a playground full
of happy children.
I have penned pronouncements
of pure passion,
observed obfuscated
reactions to what I’ve
said.
No higher education have I,
but a wealth of life
I have lived, translating
experience into…
something.
Words of passion, love
desire...
all this when my mood
shines brighter than
any sun
Morbidity, sadness…
gloominess not so subtly veiled.
I force my pen upon the paper
with violence, angering the
words, crying with
depression.
Alas, my works may not
make me millions,
or thousands, even
hundreds and tens
stretches the limit.
A random thought…
what if my words
are never read again?
Will it stop me
from sharing
my thoughts?
I write because
I can.
Ink flows from
my desire to
convey, inspire,
perspire.
I write because
I
Am
Poet