Once in a while

Once in a while
I pick up a pen
Sit down in style
To write a poem

And think about what
I really want to write
So many words just to tell
Only what I just thought

I come up with topics
A whole wide range
Life and death
Poverty and pain
Of joy and sorrow
And of the socially insane
Of love that is lost
Or that’s in what we gain...
Of everyday’s multitude
Of thoughts in the memory lane

Of things that matter
And words insignificant
Of endless chatter
And silence vacant

And on and on I think about
So many things I want to write about
And yet somehow
My conviction I doubt

Am I writing to speak my mind?
Am I writing to please a friend?
Am I writing coz I want to write?
Or because I have nothing to write?
Do I have to try and kill time?
Or is this a tradition I want to set?
Am I thinking too much about me?
Or is it just a feeling I often get?

Now that I have said all this
Do I really want to write some more?
I write coz I can’t stop myself
I have tried to stop, to stop before...
But I have to write and I really want to
To make sense or maybe it is not to
Whatever it really means
I am trying to know
If it does or not make sense
I don’t want to stop… I know...
….Feb 22 2007