Why do I write?

Ther’es a place called writers block in a community called Spymac where you write what you feel. I always hit the Reply button without having a suitable reply. So I have to write a poem on the fly… Like this one

Why I write. 

I feel like I have to write a poem
like a tree needs xylem and phloem
Sometimes I want to
More times I have to

I can’t let the Idea flow away

On dawny mornings the sun is grey
Trying to awaken a new born day
The cold is locked outside the panes
And I cuddle ‘tween my blankety manes

Awake! I can’t let this thought go away

Of hills and dales and shady glens
My mind is like a moving lens
That sees above below beside
As heaven opens gates so wide

Another musing I can’t betray

Sometimes I feel I am not free
To or not make my writings be
Because in the end my rejected plea
Means that my prose and verse are me.

So you see?