I just wrote my first poem last week.
In class. (who said school takes away your imagination?)
Here it goes:
Dots
or
Drawing a Life
Fleeting in the back of my mind
Regret, forget forsaken time
Spent making plans to follow through
For this old soul has things to do.
Lives and dreams of drawing dot to dot
To later bind up on the plot
And drawing, the lifeline to displays
What’s been done through all my days.
I look at all of them and grin
At all the places they have been
And want to finish mine so fast
But can’t remember my own past.
Lives and life time's have passed this way
stippling in fevered haze
Just waiting for my pen to die
And finish this whole plot of mine.
So now, this plot looks finalized
And so I think to draw the lines
But horror comes as I prospect…
None of my small dots connect.
