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Poem

I am not a fancy dancy writer.
Willy-nilly is more like it.
I toss common ordinary words onto a page
they are the ones that decided to whirl, twirl or saummersault
Sometimes landing on my head,
prying open my skull to take a look at my dendrite highways.

Wait! I say. I’m not ready for ths poem.
I don’t have an ending in mind.
My verbs stick out their tongues and wiggle their petootsies at me.
The vowels screech with “EE IIII OHHH and OOOOs”
Who knows what the adjectives are doing?
I am terrified of them
So I don’t hunt them up

I am not a fancy dancy writer.
I am a poet who came into this accidentally
Tossing some words onto a page for “fun” during a boring day at work.
And now five years later, here I am, wondering what happened.
How did this obsession begin?
Is this why I am still here?
Is it my poetry?
Ouch!
A damned verb just bit me on my left leg.
I never know what is going to happened.
OUCH!

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