Poetry...........0000000 Poem by RIC BASTASA

as i write another
poem i was dribbling on other
more important things,

i sip my coffee, i watcha video,
i talk to my girlfriend from U.S.A

and then i go back to poetry
telling myself,

what is so good about this thing?
what is so important about this nonsense?

and i dabble and dribble and feel so terrible,
and i sigh and shriek and strike a note to start to sing,

takes time to really mature, i tell myself,
giving importance to those who does not make us feel important

loving those who does not love us
devoting time to those that does not fill us...

and back to poetry,
this useless misery,


and i become curious,
why had i made so many?

trash, o trash? but i keep on going back
and read them

and there is this sting,
that makes me feel back to myself,
as i tell myself,


here i am, back to poetry again,
without the rules, and feeling so free! !