Writing poetry is a lonely by yourself account <br />Of writing down what is in your own head, <br />A metaphor you see in your mind of <br />Love, hate nature and the ever full moon <br />So I’m here to write a poem, a poem <br />That knows where it’s going with a start <br />A middle and an end that seals it off. <br />Something new no daffodils or roses <br />No broken hearts, no tigers or leaves at your feet, <br />Or no more wishes for the soul mate out there. <br />I know the something no one talks about <br />I’ll write a poem of the wind, yes the wind <br />The wind that we all let free, discreet of course, <br />The ones who leave it behind in the lift <br />Then ten people enter and pretend it’s not in the air <br />Then all stare at the fat guy who is innocent <br />And try not to breathe, believe, <br />The young lady with a baby in the supermarket aisle <br />Lets off a rasper then says to baby “What was that! ” <br />Little children of three playing on the floor know that <br />Grand dad when sat always uses his left leg to raise his cheek <br />To let his wind go free, they see it’s so natural, <br />Hence the old saying <br />‘Where ever you may be always let your winds go free.’ <br />Yes I’ll write a poem of that not forgetting those <br />Who emulate their pet dog at their feet <br />Who stink like hell without a noise, and so discreet.<br /><br />Ken e Hall<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/where-ever-you-may-be/
