lines in life, drawn between this and that
sometimes easy to draw
often hard to erase
once in place, leaving impressions
like those left by a full moon
on a farmer’s resting field
on a biting cold winter’s eve
like those cut by a determined river
following its surging heart to sea
like those etched into our faces
from years of smiling or frowning
and finally
like those in a poem
connecting and separating words
to give meaning

Why Do I Write Poetry?

Just the other day
someone asked why I write poetry.
The question set me thinking;
more like rummaging around
for an honest answer,
but also one I liked.
All the usual suspects turned up:
  I love poetry
  I write it because I can
  My Dad turned me on to poetry
  Poetry makes me feel good
  I can speak in a poetic voice.

Then I realized I write poetry
because it is part of the story
I tell myself and others
about what my life is all about.

What stories do you tell yourself and others
about what your life is all about?

Click here to hear me read this poem.