Birth of a Poem
awoke early, much sooner than I had the clock set.
I give in, knowing that I'll catch up yet.
wait patiently, with the thoughts in my mind.
think, "What shall I do now to pass the time”.
enjoy the peace I find, as the world is still asleep.
lines within my mind, slowly begin to creep.
open a blank page and write down the first line.
words begin to flow, like sweet red wine.
day in the not so distant future, I will find the time,
put words to page when I want to formulate a rhyme.
now, I indulge when I find time and feel so inclined.
me, it's a very relaxing way of exercising my mind.
others in mind, I always try to find some positive note.
feels wonderful, when virtue emerges from what I wrote.
things, I will never know or understand.
words seem written by an unseen hand.
poet's words are like a bird with a broken wing.
are nurtured until they can once again sing.
a poet can do, is to write and then let the words fly.
is a good thing, and no good thing shall ever die.
and despair, always abound, everywhere.
why I focus not, on the gloom and despair.
like to see the good that's going on all around me.
a smile, it's contagious. Try it and you will see.