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Rated: E · Poetry · Adult · #1907728
A poem about being driven to write and how it is more part of me than anything else.

-Conducted In Form-
by
Keaton Foster

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Conducted in form
These poetic words
A monument to a life
Mine
Not yours
Hold no jealous edge
What I have
You would not want
No human being
Should ever be burdened
In such an impossible way
I write because I must
I live because I was born
A condition of one and the same
They are the cause
For every breath
And every beat
Each calculated thought
Forms into an idea
Every idea screams
Express me you must
Onto blankness I bleed
Never once do I not believe
I commit to each word
Every line is paramount
The calculated price of my soul
Within every hidden message
When I am done
I often wonder
Will others understand
And if they don’t
Will it or I have made any difference
Will I get the relief deserved
Or will I continue on
A slave to the blank page
A servant to an ever-expansive mind
Working while there is work to be done
Conducted in form
Doing what I do
What I know that I must
What was born into me
Is a machine of creativeness
Fueled by my life experiences
There are no boundaries
At least none to be confessed
The blank page calls
For me there is nothing less…


Conducted In Form
Written by Keaton Foster Copyright © 2012.

© Copyright 2012 Keaton Foster: Know My Hell! (keatonfoster at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1907728-Conducted-In-Form