I hated poetry;
Until the words came alive.
I hated poetry;
Then the stars all aligned.

I hated poems,
But in poetry I thought;
Always sought for the right words,
To bare my heart all out.

Walking up pavements;
Cycling down the hills;
Running to the path upstairs;
Or gushing through the breeze;
As life walked on,
Words came along, awashing the soul-
With a tincture oh so strong.

Searching for an idea,
Or the perfect rhyme to a line-
Never did sit quite right.
"How boring", I thought,
"How banal", I thought;
And then a stream of words flowed out.

Prose, poetry, and perhaps poems too-
Overflowing a pot,
That had been boiling far too long.

Before I knew it,
Before I could stop-
A poem was written out.

Black ink, yellow sheets;
Ruled pages, darkness within;
Hardbound notebooks, and curved spines-
A love of mine for all of time.

And oh how those traitors turned on me-
They birthed a poem wrought from ashes;
Ashes of songs I had spun;
Songs I wished would come undone.

So now, I write.
Write, write, write, write, write.
As I mourn for the tales I never did let out,
And pray for this flow to never stop,
As I write over the graves,
Of my past loves and their fates.
Wishing I drowned,
In a world I myself carved.
Never to return,
Never ever to return.

I write away tales of the worlds' I made.

But alas! The bell doth ring,
And voices from around,
Do pull me from my peace.
So I do the only thing I can,
and share a part of my soul-
That I had hidden for so long-
With the world all around.

Maybe one of you strangers - my oh so precious readers - could show me the way to drown my tears away and let insanity have its way; while I seek to wither into a tale spun by fate and told by these words that my quill did scratch on white paper stained like a glass.

***********************

Authors note: Written from personal experience, this is pretty much how I got into poetry.

"How about you, why poetry?"

(31st October, 2021)