I have written poetry since I was but a prepubescent lad discovering his enthrallment with words and rhyming. The Beastie Boys and Eminem were my early poets. Certainly a different influence than Dickinson or Poe, but they brought me a love of lyrics and poetic expression. My poems from an early age were mediocre at best, and were never complicated or deep. They just rhymed. But bad verse is better than no verse, because it got me thinking, got my creative blood to burn and increased my desire to write. I still write the occasional poem, and it still is not my calling in life. So I usually do not share them with people. But the other day feeling flushed with feelings, I went to a park with paper and a pen. I looked around and decided to write one as quickly as possible without the obstacles of thinking or fear of using the wrong word. I picked up my utensil and, but my thoughts were halted like clouds on a windless day. But I put the ink to the page anyway.
Bread crumbs on my legs from a sandwich too big.
The sun burns my neck.
Silent laughter in the distance.
A heart aches and cries.
Who’s heart will win?
Who’s will die?