For the Love of Verse
I came late to the love of verse
Simply holding an indifference
At least at first
The dwindling southern summer
Burned hot into senior year
I called on many vices to overcome her
Air-conditioned rooms and cold glasses did help
But nothing struck quite as cool
As those few old poems felt
A.E. Housman spoke to my romantic
For I am not yet One-and-Twenty
But still have known my heart to grow frantic
Heaney showed my ancestors stifled
That I would not be Digging the same holes
The first to not pick up the rifle
English class each day brought a new wonder
Another idea, another poem
Each glorifying life's triumphs; its blunders
I felt that as each new stanza I read
Became more and more relatable
Perhaps I could write them instead
In the beginning the words eluded me
I knew I wanted to write
But, just what, I could not see
Until a day not too much later
When something inside me simply changed
My urge to put pen to paper grew greater
I saw words in everything around me
I began to focus on the good in things
Peoples' gallantry, nature's elegance; its beauty
When the words poured out
For the first time in ages
I had something for which to be proud
Something that I alone
Created. I had a gift to share with others;
Something of my own
There is just something about
Putting my soul in these lines
That I cannot live without