even with misspeelings and quotational **** ups and missed
opportunities like our hearts are on fire
and burning with the spirit of Byron
or Browning, we write and I want to bow to all you ,
who like me have something to say,
whether you are reincarnated Bard,
or a hard working slob, like me,
at the end of the day,
if someone sees and relates that is all it means.
I would enjoy being Whitman,
but then, that would mean I was dead.
I am not Chilean, so I could not be Neruda.
I am not female but Sylvia relates to me.
And so, we write, on and on.
It may be a gift or a sickness.
We just have to.
I take a lack of talent
and make it useful.
It is to me.