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Poem


Why do I write?
These words rise from an invisible force.
Where the mind is taut and released in drips.
Cherry-picked random phrases find their way
To a virgin page
It spins, a lottery of love and hate 
Of calm and rage
That fills each line to engage 
A soul that yearns 
A fire that burns 
to release a creative age
Why these words and what do they mean?
If not picked, would they be seen?
Floating endlessly without a place
To fill what was then an empty space
For decades passed without a sign
That one day those words were mine
A miracle or meant to be
A million thoughts that came to me
Now, each day with more set free
All for the sake of literacy
I stretch my chains and try to see
Will this be my destiny?
Forming late in aged mind
Are the poems I am trying to find
That will dance and resonate
To feed my soul, to satiate
That crying voice, 

Have I a choice?

Will this thing that I have become
Make me strong or leave me numb
Only time will tell that tale
Will I win or will I fail?
Poetry, the coupling rhyme
A lyrical piece to last all time
Has come to me in infancy
To find this poetry that lives in me

Now years have passed, my road's been long
Finding out if I belong
Amongst my peers, I stand beside
No longer need to sit and hide
Standing tall, recite my thought
Grateful for the lessons taught
This small gift was bestowed on me
Will this be my legacy?

Andrew Mears

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