End has come.
End of the dark road.
The wretched twisting of my heart.
Heart drained of blood.
Wringing of wet cloth ****** dry.
So much darkness.
Secrets.
Be at peace, the forgiven one.
Turned to ash.
I will grieve you.
For them.
Put you to rest in my head.
Be at peace, the forgiven one.

For my morning run, it rains again.
I run into town every morning anyway.
Some day they'll be flooding, I think, when
the rain realizes it won't stop my foray.
Oddly, no one in this town would blame me then.
I think that's what keeps me on my merry way.

It's hard to step out of my sunny shell, and let the rain soak my hide.
Yet I'll keep smiling when it rains; that means once again I made it outside.

Find a Poet Not a poser, not a "it's just a hobby" poet. Find one who mumbles lines as they scramble for a pen at breakfast; who shakes their head randomly when their thoughts aren't rhyming properly;  who has notebooks stashed around the house that you must never touch.
2. Listen Savor the spoken words, for those are harder to express. Keep in mind that they can't be edited and re-written, and be forgiving when a mistake is made.
3. Read The body speaks as loudly as words on a page do. When their eyes are closed or focused on the ceiling and the fingers are tapping out syllables, recognize the unique process. Respect the need for quiet, because if you look closely, you can read the poem on their face before they write it on the page.
4. Write Write your story together. Grab hold of the pen and hang on as you move across the page of life. Sometimes you will dance across, others you will be dragged. You may have to cross out a word, or a line, or a page, but don't give up. Discouragement is a poet's biggest enemy, inarticulateness their biggest fear. So end each day with a semi-colon, because the story will never end the way you think it will, and there must be room for more. There is always room for more, more words, more laughter, more tears, more love,
When you love a poet.

Fall in love!
That’s all I can say for now and all the advice I can give, fall in love!
With what, with whom, or how you do it, well, that doesn’t matter. What matters is that you fall in love.
After you have done that (the falling in love part), everything else is unimportant.
Yes, there are things like:
The first poem you write it has to gush out of your soul like a stream of water that just found its way from a deep cave;  turbulent, fast, and impure at the same time!
It has to contain every piece of your soul in it, cause that’s what poetry really is, your soul morphed into a different thing, morphed into a black ink that slithers on a white page, imprinting yourself on it.
But these are details, only details that you will be doing unconsciously, whether you like it or not!
The first poem you will be writing won’t be smart; but it doesn’t have to be smart, structured, or even good!
What it needs to be, is YOU! You, and no one else! No Frost or Bukowski; No Poe or Neruda; No Whitman or Baudelaire; No Keats or Yeats… or anything of their kind.
Cause trust me, if you are able to keep being yourself while writing it, your first poem will be better than any other poem written by any of them, and whoever says otherwise, is a liar! (and probably hates you)
Your first poem will contain all the hate, joy, pain, greed and fear you’ve ever felt, and yet, it will turn out to be the most beautiful thing you’ve ever did; the most beautiful thing you’ve ever had.
But, enough of my nonsense;
Start writing, start falling…