since the day i first picked up a pen.
and had the urge to write some poetry.
i knew I’d write, till i grew to be a man.i wasn’t good, for i was a child then.
that wrote only, in verse that was free.
since the day i first picked up a pen-
and had the urge to write some poetry.
i knew I’d write, till i grew to be a man.i wasn’t good, for i was a child then.
that wrote only, in verse that was free.
since the day i first picked up a pen-
that has not yet, rested since the day i began.
as I’ve been working, harder then a buzzing bee.
for i wanted, to be better as i grew to be a man.
i spent, more time in my father’s den.
comparing things to a growing tree.
since the day i first picked up a pen-
i grew older, and began writing for fun.
using the names, of things the eye could see.
so i b’came, good as i grew to be a man.
i now receive, much praise from the village clan.
saying that their eyes, did…
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The Poets Peace 