Though nearly ninety poems 

in this volume written,

Each one is unique…

                      Telling me that writing

                      Poetry about poetry

                       can take an eternity.



And when I reach the end

and the collection is complete,

Just for fun..

                     Perhaps I will write 

                     just one more.

the pen that writes verse

is fueled with tears and blood

attached to the heart 

and ne'er has an end.



the place the verse is written

often is peeled from the skin 

of the poet's soul deep

in the depths of what is unknown.

as the poet spilled

all the words across 

the page purposefully...



the pen bled whispers

of possibility and choice

leaving the poet drained.



the drops formed words

the words formed verse

and all of them became a soul.

here I go again

picking up my pen 



I became a poet

with nary a clue 



I would always want

to scribe more 



verse to speak

my heart clearly 

writing lines of heartbroken verse
across the scars of what was once 
my flesh and skin...

my life in ink
made of tears

my soul in poetry

and the author is the one
living the verse as it is written