When I write poetry

I don't just write

I don't think and consider,

Weigh the meanings of my words

And maybe that's wrong, but I don't think so


I feel this urge to find some paper,

I grab a pen, and it just comes

The letters flow from the tip

Like a river

And half the time,

I don't understand a jot of what I'm writing


I don't think "write" and it happens

It takes me by surprise, I don't expect it

And somehow I can't just add up rhymes until they equal a perfect sum

Because my words don't always want to rhyme

When my heart wants to write


And it's like an addiction I can't stop

It just keeps gushing from my jumbled head

As if I'm a brand new faucet

When I was certain I was rusty and leaky from disuse


And impossibly, it just comes out right every time

My poetry is not static,

But witty and powerful when read out loud

And I absolutely cannot figure it out,

Because there is no strategy, no order, and no reason

Behind the thoughts that find their way to paper

From my mind


And every time I make that transfer from head to

Tangible paper

The result is the same

Another poem to add to my collection

When I don't think I was even trying to write one at all


And I'm thinking so hard about how this could happen

And I think my thinking      i  s    poetry

But of course, not the sensible, organized kind

It goes from my head to my hand to my mouth,

And rolls off my tongue in easy sentences


And I'm not sure I understand, or that I ever will

But if this is the way things are gonna happen

You won't see me getting in the way


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