It Just Was

Never much thought about poetry
It just … Was!
Through pen to notepad.
No effort, pure words.

Graduated out to life.
Writing of school dances,
Bored prose on news pages,
And crashes of cars.

The poems went away
Irrevocably foreign–
Ghost pale in nightshade–
To all that I dreamed.

From J-school I learn
Not enough can be said.
Each part begs notation
'Til reason remains.

Poetry cries, "I disagree."
Listen, listen, to imagery
Un-spoken in nuances
That says, "… it just was."

Inspired by David Horowitz of Rose Alley Books at Poets in the Park 2005. We chatted about my letting a 25-year hiatis interrupt the continuity of my poetic vision. This grew out of my lame-o explanation.

Copyright © 1998-2005. Michael Quin Heavener. All Rights Reserved.