Writing poetry used to be easy for me. I still have all my journals and Poetry.com submissions. I even have an unpublished book somewhere. I’ve received several “awards” and have one of my poems in the Millenium Anthology from the International Poetry Association.
But I stopped writing poems.
I write thought-processed essays and blog-like entries now. Boring, I know. I wish I had that spark in me to write like this:
A hill in the vicinity calls
with dignity of an eloquent song
Music is heard from over yonder
as old men bicker about
I follow unaware of all danger,
the sound of music from a hill
The pure and rich sounds slowly go–
creating the most tranquil air
A valley between two hills cry
for calmness and peace to be here
I carry with care, all I know–
all the music from a hill
Thanks to the music on a hill,
they made peace be true once again
again. Oh well.