Why Poems?

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I don't exactly know. I've always loved words. Especially when they fit together like colorful parts of good oil paintings. Descriptive to the point I can see, hear and even smell the stories. And vocabulary! A pleasure to be around the McL's and their massive stores of vocabulary and high minded thought. Even humor! And the S's. We have so many friends who share a love of literature which definately feeds the craving.

Poems have most always been beyond me. Especially the ethereal, objective-less kind. I often can't find the point. I can't figure out what the poet is trying to say.
But once in a while a poem fits nicely in my mind and that is a very satisfying experience.

I really wish I could find that powerful poem from college days. About a true love that was pulled on like clothing. Vivid and expressive, a picture I could see and feel. I can't remember the title. I can't remember the author. But it moves me from then until this day.

Suddenly poetry is pouring out of my brain. Before, once in a great while, a poem would come, but this time they are overflowing as if from espresso foam dripping down a solid small cup. One after another. Feels sort of like what Chagall described, that God sent art through him, not of him, only touched up with a little brushwork by him.

Always my overblown feelings have blurted out my mouth, making more sense to me than any listener, I think I've exhausted most. But here I am again...this time less inarticulate, less chaotic. I'm shy about sharing these things. But they are in me and won't be ignored. I'm as satisfied as with anything else artistic I've done. Urgent phrases and ideas simply jump in my head and have to be dealt with.

So.
Here are my few poems.
If you're interested.

If Love is Round.

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