On writing as a habit.......

A Poem by Marshall

Spilling ink on daily fluff is a credible past time
one never knows when gems are unearthed in rambling
along on a slow lane watching as the world cruises by.

poets do this all the time, just tuning into the deep caverns
of the mind, searching for those hidden trinkets that were
probably stored away in a lifetime of looking
sometimes intentionally, most times unconsciously.

then strike! the words and its magical meanings
come together in a wet, juicy kiss
and the fires jump alight in the darkness of the mind
and roar with the pristine clarity of metaphors
similes and poetic nuances that rarely appear
in normal insipid conversation.

Everyone who writes, experiences this torrential surge
of raindrop-like writing sometimes with hailstones
often with snowy winds and chill structures that
weave in and out of unexplored tunnels somewhere
deep within the muse.

Write if you must.....did I just write that?