Poetry is “write” when you let it be as open and free
as open and free as a harmless wing flittering about
an aimless stream meandering from shore to shore
So there on the tip of your pen she lands just aright
so fragile afoot, she prays, no time to wait just write
gleaming ink, shimmering and still weighting its time
the pros and the cons the sound of making it rhyme
words find their own place be it on paper or cement
there you commit by letting it sit just as it was meant
Pick a word or two and say what they mean to you
when hearing a cadence of letters form in your head
let your fingers bleed what your heart wants said
letting your deepest voice speak, the reality inside
Poetry is "write" right where you live, if you decide
BB2015