Poetry

Daily confronting a blank computer screen
I the tool write what is mentally seen
Whether it be of good or what is obscene
Often what comes, comes from a dream
The words themselves, flow not unlike a water stream
Transiting ether to reality’s scene
Rendering what is often  not forseen
Compilation of words ideally, with message to glean

The message in what is written, is for others to discern
Though not my position to tell what one is to learn
These compositions meant for readers to accept or to spurn
Some even worthy of nothing more then to burn
So as author, there is but one thing for which to yearn:

    Is the impulse, to the next page, to turn!