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Poem

Now that I develop the gift of expression
What do I write about?
Now, creativity succeeds in succession,
why do I feel doubt?

I don't know how to write about trees
but I write about poetry with progressive ease.
I want to know all forms and they all tease
To write about poetry and some old oak trees.

It's the passion of Maya Angelou 
throwing logs on this fire.
It's rationing pain Ai's brain 
and Baraka's new name desired

My heart pumps, the pen flies, fingers guide
the mind to speak aloud, flowing rivers of
simple/complicated facts, page ridden,
with the intensity to hike Denali.

My blood the Nile, earth and rock lead as gravity,
my heart, pumps me to destinations unknown
Whether up or down or all around my body explores 
writing... exploring how it circulates inside of me
to keep me alive... a creators way to strive and thrive

I love to write whether its wrong or right
I don't know how
but I write now
and I pray the gift of knowledge repents for me to God,
acting as Jesus saying,
"forgive him because he made it to where
 he is is where he's supposed to be..."

I'm here, writing, learning to write
esteemed by my constant effort to speak...
shamed by the amount of time that 
it took me to get here...and only comforted when
I am in the process of doing it.
it...
IT...
I love doing IT!!!

Ha! Make love to me poetry, or rough me up 
with conviction but never leave me... retrieve me 
and lead me to a place where I am everyday
as you do write now.

I'm just starting with you poetry but I must read now
to feed now gravity's leading the circulating river's 
of my blood to bring oxygen to my brain so 
I can say/write: I love you page and pen.

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