The ability to write poetry is the ability to understand life
To know it's not always about being the best
That it's not always about who can do what
Poetry is emotion
It is the silent words that lurk in our minds
It is our unsaid weaknesses exploited to their full potential
Which then makes it our strengths
It is the bridge that connects us to the mortal world
It is the proof that we are human
That we can cry
That we can laugh
That we can have remorse...
To us poet it is so much then just words on a piece of paper
It is our heart and our pride
As poets we all have our reasons why we write
Because we all come from our different backgrounds
Some of us have lost sight of the light
Other bath in it
There are even some who sit upon the border because they can't make up their mind
But as poets we all have one thing in common
We write because we are not immortal
We write because poetry is our life
We write because  poetry is our hope
And if we didn't have it we'd all be in a different place
Most likely a place beyond darkness
Even if the reason we write is joy
What's the point of being happy if everyone else is not
So we write to share
That's what it means to be a poet

While you were away,
My words seem to fall on deaf ears.
Unvoiced mutterings that fall out in droves,
Burning rants swallowed back in singes and sears...

While you were away,
Time was stagnant; a viscous puddle.
Hours only stretched longer,
The second hand jabbing its ferocious needle...

While you were away,
The clock drove me insane.
Ticking my life away in literal seconds.
Losing sand grain by grain...

While you were away,
And when it's all quiet and dark,
I could hear my heartbeat...
Awaiting the new day to make its mark.

While you were away,
My words seem to have lost their meaning...
As if they were stuck in limbo,
Unanswered calls that keep on ringing...

While you were away,*
I am but a little lost foal...
Because whenever you're away,
I am never whole...