The life that I have lived as a poet
Has always messed with my head
It doesn't matter if I'm busy
Or lying nearly asleep in my bed.
Thoughts come and thoughts go
So let them go, you might say
But when one is a poet
It simply doesn't work that way.
Like drifting out in outer space
Thoughts go floating by me
Some can go but others, I know
Just simply cannot flee.
So I write them down quickly
And I usually know that soon
There are words that will join them
Until it is like a blown up balloon.
I backspace then I think, I add again
Until it's a poem... I will know it
So, my friend, it is part of my life
My life, for many years, as a poet!
Topic(s) of this poem: poet, poetry, writing
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.