“Everyone has talent. What’s rare is the courage to follow it to the dark places where it leads.”   – Erica Jong

It’s one of those mysteries

why suddenly do I write,

why suddenly is it poetry?

I dig deep each day

exploring the depths

journeying without a map

no safety nets

no one to pull me out.

I write alone

seeking the right words

the witty metaphor

reminding myself

that I’m no Shakespeare 

yet, that small voice

laying in the darkest reaches

screams each day

imploring me to write

so what if it’s shitty

Rome wasn’t built in a day

and even Shakespeare

wasn’t Shakespeare

when he first started to write.

So the words tumble out

as I spill my feelings

onto the pages

confessing my loves

my sins, my humanity.

All poetic metaphors

in their imperfection

set out for the world to read.


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