Jonesing Poem by Doug Gunderson

I’m Jonesing for that high again.
But not sure when it will come
Can’t find it in a powdered form
Or in a bottle of rum.
It only comes a certain way;
When I’ve finished with some lines
But not the ones that you may think:
My lines are those that rhyme.
For when I turn a phrase just right
Or catch a unique metaphor
I find my heartbeat races on
And my feet can’t find the floor.
No drug or drink or gambling bet
Or even a woman’s touch
Can do to me what writing can
And get to me so much.
There is a thrill in playing
And winning a trivia game;
But the thrill of creative writing
Well, there’s nothing that’s the same.
And so I continue writing
Tossing words and phrases around
Hoping to make connections
With the feeling and the sound.
And every now and then I can
Put down words that come out right.
This junkie gets to have his fix,
And I’m good for one more night.