I Write the Way I Write
I write most and best,
with wind blowing
in me,
wine in the glass, but
no toxic and no
expectations...
Simple and complex,
so comes walks up
writing...
Without honors and flatteries,
chasing a target
distant...
My poor poetry
it is without fuss and without
subterfuges... climb up
slopes and ramps, and
sometimes it thrills the blind
and deaf...
Poetry that hits hard
cheers me up and warms me up when
I feel half dead...
So hot it is, until the
the cold warms.... and if
no audience appears
it is not scared and there is no
cease...
While writing,
cars on the street honk,
mosquitoes suck
my blood and phrases... and
in the silence of the room
hundreds of ghosts
applaud...
Copyright © Alkas Poetry | Year Posted 2022
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