Writing Poetry
Writhing words fly around in my head.
Realism and fantasy combined within.
I feel realism from what I have said.
Thinking is my pastime, maybe my sin.
Intelligence not always in what so read.
Note worthy maybe, where to begin.
Great poetry no, but simple lines fed.
Plain simple verse is all that I win.
Overtures of verse are all I spread.
Exemplary words escape my mental pen.
Telling of love, nature, happiness and dread,
Realistic views, simple thoughts of men.
You reading my words are my trophy instead.
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