This Family of Poets
I lay no claim to thinking I know
about this creative endeavor
that's been camping out in my attic.
All I know is it has insomnia,
and it paces back, and forth
wearing out my floor boards.
When it does sleep it awakes early
knocking on my door
hoping to motivate me.
I could not even give
the definition of motivate
when I first arise to greet the day.
Since now my once tired eyes
choose to be open,
I direct them to focus
upon the brilliant works of art
present at this open poetry forum.
This family of poets that abide here,
are sewn together like a beautiful quilt.
At times I feel as though I'm a lost stitch,
for the poems here surpass by far
anything that could escape my attic,
yet still I post what I have written
in hopes that one day
I may even surprise myself.