But Why Poetry?
Because we don’t care if we
crash on its shore and sink
in its mud up to our knees.
Because maybe inducing a stanza
might keep one’s head above the surface
of an old lover whose memory
won’t leave us alone.
Maybe someone writes
at the behest of another scotch,
beside the laptop that keeps
whispering ideas in his head,
and tells him to keep going
until morning.
Food is as forgotten about
as the time he or she exists
in a chair next to a clock
that seems like it’s lying
every time it’s noticed.
Writing’s a drug,
and we’re not considering
help for our addiction.
Let that kind of needle sink in
until my eyes are drowsy,
and I don’t know where I am.
Cleverly penned, Tim. Oh, the life of a writer. Reading this was like Deja Vu my friend. Amazing work. Appreciate you.
Damian
Thank you, Damian. :))
Nice! “Because”, is the perfect answer to why we write poetry. So many possibilities, reasons, inspirations behind that magical word. I agree with Damian. Very clever write, my friend.
Thank you very much. 🙂
Amen brother!
This is a testament for us all. Written elequently enough for us to relate to.
Thank you Styx. 🙂