Why do I do this?

( an answer to an existential question)

Do I even want to be heard?
My thought simply bubbles up
A line sets me off in a rush of words
And all play of image and sound
Ripples from my tongue, or
Roars, in a ranting demonic trashing
Of something wrong or evil with
Morality puffed up or in despair.

I must ease frustration,  let my heart free,
Speak gently of my love for you,
Or  advertise my awe and wonder
About my camp of unknown readers.

But sometimes I hold a mirror
To peer into the hollow room of myself

From my conscious dreaming
Thoughts run together, enjambing sense
And sensibility as I do this —
For you, and for me
in the doing of it.
Kent Bowker   2/1/2012

2 thoughts on “Why do I do this?”

  1. I love this. There’s so much torment and frustration, as only you can feel and issue it. I wonder what provokes the darkness, and the lack of confidence…not in your writing, but in your true voice of your writing instrument.

  2. Yesterday, when I had finished my last comment before calling it a day. I asked myself these two questions: Why do you write poetry, why do I write stories? For some reason before I left the website, I returned to your homepage, and as I glanced over your list of poems, my eyes focused on this one. I have read George Orwell’s essay about why he writes. I also read Stephen King’s book on the same topic, and I’ve listened to other writers discuss their reasons, but I didn’t expect what you said in this poem.

    You’ve lived the contrasting experiences life offers all of us. You certainly have something to say and you want an audience. If not, why would you have this website? Kent, I realize it’s not my choice to make, but it appears as if there is something holding you back. I’ve read contemporary poets. I’ve read what some critics call the best, and I agree with them. But none of them capture the “truth of our time” any better than you do. Tell me! What’s holding you back.

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