I have written poetry for several years...about 50 or so to be not very exact. In all that time, I have never met anyone
who had the foggiest idea what I, as a poet, go through. Oh, I don't mean the creative process itself. I mean living in a
world with people who do not know how it feels to be in the middle of a poem and suddenly have the TV turned on by someone
who is oblivious to the creative thing that is happening in your head and your gut at the same time. They never understand why
you get angry when they ask a "simple question" whan you are scribbling furiously on a legal pad to capture a thought, or
an entire poem, before it can get away.
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THEY JUST DON'T UNDERSTAND
The world at large will never...
The worm within the brain, which,
Causes discomfort, even pain,
The words are written,
The song is sung,
The dance is danced.
The others only hear the noises of
The CD, DVD, or cellphone;
Their own work of art,
No matter how poor or great
Is waiting to be born
And be their child
Forever and ever.
By Donovan Baldwin
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Fort Worth, TX
Page Updated 9:19 AM Wednesday 31 October 2018