I want to write poetry
But it always comes out prose.
I want lyrical, flowing metaphor
That turns one’s soul to the eternal,
The Sacred, 
The profound.
Somehow the words appear as efficient,
Descriptive, straight forward.
I long for the power of the poet, the
Evocation of the tragic and magical, 
Yet hopeful with the possibility of
A future reality better than the present.

But I am not a poet and I accept the simple
Title of writer. It is a noble title nonetheless.
Emerson, Eliot, Plath, Yates and Cummings
Can rest easy. I will not invade their space.
I will continue to aspire and be grateful
For what is produced from the tip of my pen.
Hopeful there will be at least a good description, an insight,
A glimmer of truth. 

I will not be defeated by comparison.
I must be who I am, riding the train that
Brought me to this place.


Glen Allen, VA

Retired, learning every day, enjoying this next phase in the adventure.

Raymond RyanComment