Real Life is Poetry

Yesterday I sat here for two hours and nineteen minutes trying to answer your question

My mother had to call me down to dinner twice

One hundred and thirty nine minutes is a long time to stare a blank Google Doc

I thought as I chewed on my green beans

I hate green beans

Now as I sit here again trying to answer your question I have sat for forty-six more minutes

This poem has been rewritten twice

One hundred and eighty five minutes and I’m still trying

The keys on the keyboard make a clattering sound

I love that sound

It took me another thirteen minutes to realize I found the answer to your question

I’ve had to reword it now twice

One hundred and ninety eight minutes to figure it out

All this thinking has left with me with a nasty headache

I hate headaches

Now I am a Poet who will answer your question

I live life and then I write it down so I can experience it twice

I’ve lived all one hundred and ninety eight minutes of writing this poem

Everyday moments like this are what urge me to write poetry

I love that writing poetry