‘You are a poet’ he said, ‘How does that feel? ’ br br Like nothing on earth, I think, like I am bleeding words br It calms my system, but fires my imagination br br It loses me in worlds of far reaching desperation br But sends me joyous, flying through the stars br br It is as painful as losing someone close br Or as happy as welcoming a new born son br br How I strain for that finished word or meaning br Then rejoice in gaining a simple rhyme br br It is like opening my fractured heart for all to see br Yet it feels so good to share the depth of pain br br It is all consuming and it bares my tortured soul br While bringing peace and happiness at my lowest ebb br br It is like being sad or happy and not knowing which it is br It is my whole life but has no part in my existence br br Nothing can beat the feeling of a dam bursting flow of words br But who can know the frustration of a blank page or line br br Being a poet is a punishment and a reward for life’s many paths br And how does it feel? Above everything else? Free and alive!br br SPC Kellawaybr br