A Poem about Writing Poems

Some are driven
Some just walk
Some are given
Some just talk

Some are easy
Some are hard
Some are breezy
Some are charred

Some rhymes matter
Rhythms smooth
Some just clatter
Unfinished, crude

But, however I unfold them
Not matter what they say
The words still form a poem
at the end of a long day.

The Process of Writing

I see words dance,
a smooth waltz
or a jiggling jive.

Some come easy,
aligning themselves perfectly
across the page.

Some start and stop,
randomly skipping as they go,
leaving pot marks of white space.

Some hide,
floating just out of reach.
Some demand to be used.

I think I am creating,
but ultimately,
the words are creating me.

Why do I write?

Just to get the cobwebs out
Just to get the synapsis firing
Just to hear the words I write
and get them down on paper

Just to share the morning sun
Just to give a warm embrace
Just to know where I belong
to make it all worthwhile somehow

Just because the thoughts are here
Just revealing bits of me, so
Just this moment I can be
the one whom God intended