Somewhere Between A Write And A Poetry Poem by Anees Rahman

Then the question, why I write?
For I was a professional in a profession to say,
Writing big names like Ampicillin and Cloxacillin
And stitching cuts that opened quite large.
It was then I thought of writing.
But what should I write –comedy or tragedy?
For I was no one like Marlon Brando
To act in both Bedtime Stories and Godfather
But I began writing the story of myself
And my mother I lost, in my first -The Blanket.
And then I wrote some stupid stuff,
Without knowing, what a poem did mean?
But still I wrote the next after the next.
I showed them to my friends and friends,
To know about how my write did look,
And made them take rocks on their heads,
For they did knew little than me.
But I made them read all I wrote,
Lucky… for if it weren't them,
I would have been dead.
But unsatisfied with those and what they said,
I started searching for poetry sites
Posted each bad, one after the other
Making many of the writers go manic,
But poor them, they were decent!
And started commenting like fine and good.
Sometimes I laughed writing the next
And they would cry to see me again.
But it was fun, so I kept on going
And O the poor writers… they went on reading.
But somewhere I started feeling doubts,
What if their comments were really right?
What if my write was something good?
With these doubts I write the next
And here they come to read, the next.

©Anees Rahman