6

I am cursed with poetry-I have to get it out
While driving down the road-Or walking in the grove
I long for pencil and paper-Which I can't get till later
It nags within my head-Until I get it said
And at last I'm free-Until another jumps on me
          For I am cursed with poetry

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Lind commented on 6

07-03-2017

I know what it's like to have something to say but have it contained. Sometimes, i feel like these words echo.

Poetry is either something that lives like fire inside you or else it is nothing, an empty formalized bore around which pedants can endlessly drone their notes and explanations.

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