A poem runs just like the tide,
What word comes next, I must decide,
With words as water, they ebb and flow,
But how it ends, I don’t yet know.

A title from film, or even song lyric,
A spark will light, and then I click,
My fingers type, the poem forms,
Be it still of night, or as day dawns.

I use my words to create a verse,
I’m always thinking, a blessed curse,
I follow no plan, I write off the cuff,
So pardon me if some seem rough.

I use these words to ease my woes,
Wound so tight, sometimes it shows,
My poems help to set me free,
Not always good, but always me.

The style that suits, I make them rhyme,
I whip them out in lightening time,
The inner me is in them all,
You read each one, you will find Paul.

I write for causes of which I fight,
My inner soul as dark as night,
I share my hopes, I share my fears,
With more to come throughout the years.

My children are my creative spark,
They are my light when it gets dark,
John, Isobel, Lydia, Emilia, Ben,
You inspire me onwards, time and again.

We all have things held deep inside,
A truth we hold, that won’t be denied,
The reason why my poems thrive?
It’s simple, my sweet children five.

© Cinco Espiritus Creation
2013