It seem to come so easily
The joy
The excitement
My poetry
When I was happy
It was lacking
When I wanted change
It was a message
A message that was heard
For every word
That it was
Because
I was growing as a poet
And it was noted
That I was good
But not exceptional
Great
But not lovable
A crowd pleaser
But not incomparable
It wasn't until I talked about subjects
That scorn your tough
Makes the writer eyes squeeze
And bite your thumb
And it wasn't until you was done
You take that thought
That you have
You take it
And you run
But my question is,
When did we stop writing about the better things?
The thing that were fun
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A Poets Struggle
PuisiThis poem is about the phases of being a poet and what it's like to talk about some of the touchy subjects that we as poets feel we need to write about in order to be heard.
