You ask why I write.
Why I stray in open spaces,
settling in corners, seeking
paper, leaves, anything
to document every inhale
exhaled.
Not for money; that is given.
I do because I must.
Because children grow
and leaves will fall. Because
pages turn and life
goes on - clichés
to comfort us as we fade.
Fade we will,
like words on the page.
Because here
inside this moment,
trees aflame
with day's last breath,
lives taken and given
in unfair exchange,
the world is screaming
for attention.
And while I cannot hold
death, love or the passage
of time, I believe someone
ought to take notice, or
at least stop
to write about it.
Fading fast, but writing as fast as I can - Lovely poem, Lori, and it helps to explain us as writers. Thanks! Scarlett
Tremendous, Lori, every paragraph opens a window. Thank you for that need to write (because it gives me a need to read!)
kudos to you Lori...you present the heart of us all (poets and writers) . your imagery and distillation here is just magnificent. -Tailor
Ah! Lori! This poem really made my day today. The ending is perfect! Nice one, keep up the brilliant dog-eared, scrawled poetry.
I so agree, and you have been the one to put it down on paper. Excellent. Lovely write. Love Ernestine XXX
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
nice rite...poets write for different reason, some rite from the heart, some from whats on there mind..But we all rite because thats what we want to do....