When you write of your feelings, do you write closed or revealing?
Do you pick up your pen and lay your feelings down?
When you see your feelings on the paper, do they make you smile or frown?

Do you write a poem to pick you up?
Are you a person with a half filled cup?

Is your poem of value to others?
Is your poem a tribute to your father, mother or a sister or brother?

How do you pick your idea?
Do you think of loved ones far and near?

Do you read a variety of books?
Do you read of love, romance, horror, sci-fi, any other topics that catch your eye?

Do you read poetry every day?
Do you write to newspapers, have your say?

How do all you wonderful poets present your thoughts?
Is it learned or is it taught?

Do these questions make you think?
Have you finished reading it in a wink?

I feel like a creep, a stalker, a freak,
It wouldn’t be so if I moved my feet.
If I could walk over and say hello
And tell her the things I’d like her to know.
The time would be neat, pleasantly sweet.
It could be so if I would just speak.

I watch at a distance, scared I’ll seem weak.
It wouldn’t be so if I took the leap
Of faith, and with courage, gave her a smile,
Bridging the sea between our two isles.
Our eyes they would meet, such a pleasant treat.
It could be so when I dream as I sleep.

I feel like a freak, a stalker, a creep.
I wish it weren’t so, but I’m in too deep.

11/24/18 12:55a