Being poetically got,
it's hard to untie this knot.
Rhyme calls me in my sleep,
when I awake it still peep.
All doing the day,
in my head words play.

I've become a playground,
for words of poetic sound.
I've never considered myself a poet,
and still don't do it.
As I scan the dictionary definition,
I still won't make a poet admission.

I got suckered into poeming,
because my head was storming.
I don't talk much to others,
not even my sisters and brothers.
I'm a private person in life,
even when handling my misery and strife.

But when I tied this poetic knot,
seems like life planned this plot.
Now I feel like I'm got.
I can't stay away from my pen,
for hours I write in the den.
Sometimes I want to be free,
away from this poetic spree.

I love the outdoors,
not being couped indoors.
I should be out right now,
but here I poem somehow.
My feet wants to run,
my mind wants to word fun.

When my feet win,
out the door I go with a grin.
While I'm out trying to get air,
poeming in word still is there.
I see a beautiful bird,
immediately I want to fly word.

Next thing I know thinking,
I'm looking for a blank page for inking.
As soon as I get home,
I turn my computer on to write from.
On goes my dilemma like rabbit,
I hop right into a poetic habit.

Sobeit

G