I write poetry for the lack of words existing
In a situation that cannot be explained in stories.
Although I may lack a certain sense of rhythm
Pure talent, whatever…
When it comes to how lines sound on a page
That’s poetry to me,
Inspired by a certain man I once met
Who wrote of Sun Bears secretly
And whose name starts with a Z.
Not a well known poet, not classical,
Not automatically beautiful such as Shakespeare,
Yet more beautiful and honest than any other man
I’ve ever had the pleasure to know.
And I strive to mimic his effortless style,
Blatant pictures, feelings hashed out on the page.
I strive to be a poet.
And in a way I write for him
But in the end I always write for myself.