Sitting in a meeting
trying to find the reasons.

Sipping on sunshine.
It’s been a long time.

So I keep on sitting,
trying to write and listen.

I used to sit an write like
my life depended on it.

Poetry was the prescription
that put my life together.

Found a passion in it,
’cause it was something

I could do with little effort.
I was already an expert,

could write sheets of poems
on liquid sheets of paper,

every word I wrote
shining like sunlight.

First the world didn’t write.
Then in a blink of an eye

everyone was a writer.
and carried themselves

like they were better.
Now, I’m an older poet,

definitely not an expert.
Used to write because

it numbed my pain
when train rides were long

and I only that outlet.
Now I am older and want

to find this love again,
the love a writer has for the pen.

Now and again, it comes and goes.
But this rock mind needs to liquefy.

Put my words on the page again.
Commit to this craft again.

Day one, like I’m the new guy.
Day one, like it’s my first time.

Finding comfort in each rhyme.
Finding pride in the poems I write.

Finding substance in each line
without substances clouding my mind.

 

Jason Wright is the editor and founder of Oddball Magazine. His column appears weekly. His third book, Train of Thought 2: Almost Home is available now at the Oddball Book Store.