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How A Poet Was Born

Jacob Payne aka John Posey sat alone by the fire
When it came the time he would normally retire.

But his eyes would not listen to slumber’s request
And soon finding sleep became a physical test.

His heart was in panic and he felt it would burst
There were words coming to him that he must say first.

Words about bridges he’d crossed long ago
Across destiny’s caverns so far below.

Strange feelings came over him – he felt so alone
Then he felt a strange peace like he’d never known.

Sweet memories of childhood were at his command
Up to the time he would stand as a man.

He recognized memories that must not be lost
Lest eternal restlessness would be his cost.

And before he had time to stop and think
He reached for a half used bottle of ink.

The words kept coming like wind driven snow
Till his pen took on a near ghostly glow.

These things I can relate to you now
Are counted as a beautiful gift, somehow.

And no matter how hard I try as I might
The words stay hidden as on a long lonely night.


Written By John Posey
9/10/14

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