Tuesday, December 21, 2010

This Thing Called.......Poetry



How can a sequence of syllables and letters
Cut to the core, yet make us feel better
A need to write them or to read
They torment us until we heed
The urge to simply write them down...........
It seems to me I'll never own
The simple will to walk away
And breathe...........
Without you; poetry

ah...this is a place of quiet release
and an unusual brand of peace...
After it's written, its work is complete
Eventually we hit 'delete'
then, like a wild river a fresh wave of pain
Unsettles the poet.............
And we write again
The agony of love and loss
Seems to be an endless cross

Janet~

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