I Write And Still I Write - Poem by T.y Holland

I don’t do poems.
I just write.
I pick up a pen.
I’m Busy all night.
There’s not many metaphors.
If you listen,
It can lead you through many doors.
Doors to streets, and streets to roads, then roads that lead to avenues that haven’t been traveled by most.
That’s what I write.
I write.
Things that aren’t commonly proper.
And things that most of my “people” think isn’t an offer.
But.
I write.
And still.
I write.
Inside I try to think outside the lines,
Hoping that just one of you can relate to these weirder rhymes.
Sure a fear consumes me
A fear that it all will be rejected
But still I’m not saying that anonymous left it.
But!
I write!
And still!
I write!
I don’t write of things I don’t know.
I just grab a pen.
Then,
Begin to see what flows.
Hey if its not liked by most,
I guarantee the people where I come from understand this flow.
And even though I don’t write of tall trees in the wind or nice blades of grass thinking where they have been.
I know!
I know!
But.
I write!
And still!
I write.

Poems by T.y Holland

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