Being A Poet (POEM)
I sit at my writers desk thinking.
The words, they pull at my mind.
Intractable thoughts about everything.
Putting my life in rewind.
I reflect on the journey as I sit here.
Words pour on paper with pen.
It is nearly unconscious mostly.
I rarely think, just now and then.
Often the words just come,
Flowing like a wandering brook.
I can sit writing in this trance for hours,
Private in my other worldly writers nook.
~ L. Davis, #thepoetfarmer
Sharing what it is like to be writer where words for the world flow out through poetry.