A Poet?

The Poet

I don’t know where it comes from
or why I choose to share,
Those thoughts that bubble up in me,
those words from who who knows where.

Sometimes the mood just strikes me
That’s when I grab my pad
I put the words to paper
Some happy words, some sad.

Once the door is open, once the flow begins,
The words they just keep coming, giving reason for my pen.
I follow thoughts, then make a line
A couple more, then form a rhyme.

A story hidden in there somewhere
I long to tell it, make it flow.
Give it life, to be enjoyed
By others who love prose.

I never thought i’d be a poet
Truth is I may not be.
Just a guy with a pen and paper
Jotting down what comes to me.






The Poet

I don’t know where it comes from
or why I choose to share,
Those thoughts that bubble up in me,
those words from who who knows where.

Sometimes the mood just strikes me
That’s when I grab my pad
I put the words to paper
Some happy words, some sad.

Once the door is open, once the flow begins,
The words they just keep coming, giving reason for my pen.
I follow thoughts, then make a line
A couple more, then form a rhyme.

A story hidden in there somewhere
I long to tell it, make it flow.
Give it life, to be enjoyed
By others who love prose.

I never thought i’d be a poet
Truth is I may not be.
Just a guy with a pen and paper
Jotting down what comes to me.