How do you truly justify and define the
beautiful pastime that is poetry? For me it
starts with a thought or a vision from the
heart. It presents itself as a single word,
hungry for sentences, and growing into a
page full of expression. My pen transforms
itself into a net catching words in a free
flowing river of memories. My mind is always
tossing these memories around, sometimes
keeping me up at night, waiting to blossom
into my own experiences in life. I don't
know if what I'm writing is truly poetry or
just a bounce of words configured into
stories. Regardless, they are my true
feelings I have a desire to write and share.
To me poetry does'nt have to ryhme and amaze,
as long as you believe and enjoy what you
accomplish.

This seems like a good site to get some honest feedback on this poem.
Hopefully some of you can relate. skinsfan.

 
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