I Have Always Wanted to be a Poet

Oh, yes, words came
and flew out of my fingers to the screen,
but they weren’t poems,
not, as least, as I wanted them to be.

Words have a mind of their own
and, unlike me,
aren’t afraid to hunker right down,
lie awkward on a page,
ashamed, embarrassed.

I don’t even know where words come from,
how some are spelled,
and can’t be sure of their meaning…
or how, if even, to use them.

What, after all, is communication?
How does it take place,
and why, for heaven’s sake, all of the friction?

After all these years, why on earth am I asking now?
I have no notion, except that it’s downhill now,
though it seems uphill.

Absolutely nothing now that once was easy!