Sweet Poetry

This is the end result of what happens when you stay up all night thinking about writing poems. I couldn't sleep, and this is the fruits of my labor, and insomnia.... I hope you enjoy

----------------------------------------------

I wanted to create, poetry that moves
But I couldn’t decide what form to chose
Should I go with slam, or Maya Angelou
Or fit my words into hip hop bugaloo

I sat back and pondered, oscillating my thought
All night was this logical battle I fought
Then suddenly it hit me, like a Mariah Carey note
I just had to flow with what ever I wrote

So whether its onomatopoeia
Or just simply prose
I made like Toucan Sam and followed my nose
I lifted my fingers and let them fall
The keyboard rang out and answered the call

My words flowed freely and took on life
They inhaled pain and exhaled strife
They sought out poverty, enlightened solitude
They erred perfection, and polited rude

When ever my brain ran into a brick wall
The words stepped in and corrected the stall
I didn’t have to think too hard, it just flowed
And at the end of it all don’t you know

What I read left me in awe, amazed
In the midst of my cerebral, chaotic craze
I had written a poem, deep and surreal
I had simply written about how I feel

Tossed and tormented, stressed and defeated
My life long reserves of patience depleted
A victim of life and the choices I made
The bed in which for so long I have laid

And as I reread the words that I wrote
My eyes shed a tear, a knot caught my throat
I had to step back, and take a deep breath
I let it soak in, and then I wept

I had written from the heart, from the soul
In the end, I had finally accomplished my goal
I didn’t chose the words, I let them chose me
And after all that I wound up, with sweet poetry.