Time to pause,
As all good poetry is 
but a practice of

Metered thought
and the rhythm of
how practical verse can be.

So, with genteel caution
thrown to the wind…
write bad poetry…
then pause to write 
good poetry once again.

Full of pomp,
circumstance, 
and prayers,
It is time to turn 
the ink from tears
to the poetry 
it was meant to be.

Pick up the pen,
put it to the page…
and let the verse
expose the differing
emotions that hold you
as a slave.

Is it a sin
to give gratitude 
for the win?

Being able to convert
all of life's little hurts
into form and verse…

For me that is enough 
to be grateful for,
that poetry exists.

Give me the pen
My brain is alight,
It is time for me
to write poetry tonight.

Perhaps I should pause
for the verse speaks 
volumes and more,
but I think it solves 
the internal war.