On a recent day when life was really tough going,
and I found myself at an awful low
I reached for the book not the bottle,
for the thin of poetry.
The words, the lines and the stanzas
seemed to speak directly to me.
Could poetry once again be the answer?
To read and to write in verse form?
I had dabbled and experimented a few years back,
before putting those books back on the shelf,
declaring that it\'s not for me, all this,
and stopped reading and writing poetry.
And yet here I was flicking through the pages,
the very words touching my soul,
like an ancient magic spell,
I was hooked, I was in, I was back.
I had stayed away for over five years,
refusing to acknowledge or engage
with the poetic side of my nature,
distracting and distancing myself.
But now here I am, drenched in words
once again, it feels like I\'m moving back home,
the instrument feels familiar in my hands,
its music bringing tears to my eyes.
I am not calling this a come-back,
I want to draw a line and start anew,
I am not getting hung up on my previous attempts,
now fully focused on the future, not looking back.
No, this is not a poetry come-back,
this is a fresh start, a new beginning,
a clean, blank page, starting at this very moment,
going forward and moving on.
I am going to gather up all my old poems,
and build a bonfire of the pages and set them alight,
and compose brand new verses,
written with the ashes.