Feeding The Needs.

It came to me
at a very tender age
bringing smiles
beyond description,
like the first taste
of chocolate
it was
my hunger for words.

 
I quickly devoured
the usual fare
"Winnie the Pooh"
"Harold and his
Purple crayon"
"Pippi Longstocking"
But then my
eyes were opened
to the Knowledge
of married words .

Words so
full of rhythm
and rhyme,
the coupling
of emotions
into a train
of thoughts,
packed with memories
which I took a ride on,
after I had just
completed
"Now We Are Six."
by A.A. Milne .

Suddenly I needed
a typewriter
reams of paper
a jar of # 2 pencils
an eraser, and some
inspiration.

But I lived in
the projects
so I found the
inspiration
all around me
as I
worked with
some pencil stubs
and scribbled my
juvenile thoughts
on paper bags.

 
Collecting pop bottles
to save money
to buy paper.
it was a struggle
but I was
feeding the need.

 

As I grew my
poetry expanded
as well
into a collection
of books
songs, love letters
and propaganda
to try and change
the world .

But the books
sat silently
gathering dust
the songs were sung
but their melodies lost
unrecorded.

The love letters
brought love
but eventually
letters of farewell
would follow,
like sad puppy dogs
behind me
and the world
stubbornly
remained unchanged,
but I had fed the need.

 

Now near the middle 
of my years
of writing
my passions
and despairs,
"The words they

come to me!!"
like baby birds
with their mouths
agape in awe,
hungry.

 
Waiting for a bookworm
from the fields of poetry
just a tiny tidbit
to treasure and digest.

 
They also sit in

coffeehouses
cranked on caffeine
sucking smoke
addicted to nicotine
and scribbled thoughts
as I expose myself
verbally to
the huddled masses.

Listeners who

snatch at thier
favorite pieces
and show favor
in birdlike ways,
a peck on my cheek,
a claw extended
towards mine,
a whistle or two
and I suddenly
realize I've taken
flight from
my humble nest
so many years ago.

 
I've spread my wings
and soared,
I've touched the sky
and though I long
to reach beyond
my limited boudaries
the earth still calls me
back to it's roots.

 
Back to the demands
of the word-starved
souls who track my flight .

There are ears to fill,
hearts to touch,
hopes to raise,
eyes to wet,
tears to dry,
needs to feed,
and so I feed the need
and gain sustenance
from my need to feed.

Floating on the smiles
beneath my wings.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~MFB III