I
wanted to write poetry
That was profound and
always a mystery
The kind that people
don’t understand
But pretend to lest
different from others they stand
I wanted to write poetry
That was dark and deep
That filled you with
despair and made you weep
Couldn’t get myself to
write that too
Though to be honest, I
attempted a few
I wanted to write poetry
That was mature and
intellectually pleased
I put together words that
were impressive and large
Couldn’t get past a few
lines, gave up the façade
I wanted to write poetry
That I could hum as a
song
That I could string with
a melody and sing along
Did write so many, that I
was spoilt for choice
Alas! I had forgotten, I
didn’t have ‘The Voice’
So I gave up ‘wanting’
and wrote what I could
Life, dreams,
relationships and the truth
Wrote as I would talk to
a friend
Didn’t follow a pattern,
nor a trend
Laughed at myself, poked
fun at others too
Wrote all that came to
mind, nothing was taboo
Now I am content and
happy with what I write
I no longer want to write
like anyone else, I am satisfied
