Is Writing Poetry an addiction?


Even when I’m laid in bed
Words they go round in my head.
For I write poems when I’m asleep
Well it’s much better than counting sheep.

Yet when I wake, my poems are gone
As I don’t remember the words, not one.
I know that I should write them down
Those words, which could be verbs or nouns


So the right word I do choose
My dictionary is always close
I often do forget the time
If I’m looking for a word to rhyme.

My writing book is always near
So it great to see a verse appear
I watch TV as I write words down
Then I see my poem has grown


Different things I write about
Sometimes I could scream and shout
I write about nature, family and friends
As my thoughts they never end

I think it must be an addiction with me
For sometimes I won’t stop for tea.
Yet my poetry writing is my muse
And it certainly keeps me amused


SO


Is writing poetry an addiction?

The colour Red

RED is my colour,
Everything is RED
Even the covers
on my bed.
If my husband
sends roses
They are RED
of course.
And when I have
chips
I use RED sauce.

My favourite story
is
RED Riding Hood.
I'd even wear
Bright RED shoes
If I could.

My house is also
painted RED
And if pencils
were coloured
I would have
RED lead.

When my children
are happy.
Their faces are RED
I also have
RED Hair,
on top of my head.
I have a RED suitcase
For my holidays
But I'll change my mind soon
As it's only a phase.

What colour will I choose next.

Giving you up, (three poems in one)

You are the habit, I had so long
Hard to change, but I must be strong
Smoke one last cigarette, throw the pack away
If I can just get through this first hard day
Giving it up, those filter tips
Already I miss your touch on my lips
The first day goes well, no smoke, no fire
Still feeling your overwhelming desire
I keep telling myself, it’s not healthy
That feeling which burns deep inside of me
Friends tell me they are proud, I am doing well
Is it over now, how can I tell
The longing has gone, craving all passed
Heavy breath, confined to the past.