Writing my poem


Many a time
I start a poem
I will take it
in one direction
But then the words
take on a life
all their own
The verses travel
to places I don’t quite know
The prose becomes rhyme
or the rhyme doesn’t flow
My innermost thoughts
having found their own way,
lead my simple words
quite astray.
But somewhere
in this supposed
a sense of
purpose emerges.
I read back my words
and it is clear to me
that even though
what I’ve written
isn’t quite what
I’d planned it to be,
yet, in spite of that,
the words
bring out my
thoughts and feelings
quite, quite clearly.
And that’s when
I feel touched
by the magic
of creativity.


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