On the Internet I need, and do want to be; to meet other people who are more like me. I get knots in my stomach and head that's a pounding; as some new ideas, replace old ones by just sounding. I feel better, for creating a poem which is defined; after I put my thoughts into neat, and orderly lines.
The Internet seems to be where I have to start: than maybe I can play my real, God-given part. I've had jobs that span for a bunch of years; making a living out of quest, or was it fear? I needed to provide for those, who are to me dear; kept my own secret dream, poetry, in the distant rear.
Now that my children are grown, and sort of on their own; I have to learn the Internet, I need a modem and a phone! I am a frustrated poet, who has been told: "you are great!"; but what is the next step, what is the time and the date? When do I become recognized? Until then I'll do my best; writing in rhyme, is what I love, which seems to be my quest.
PETER R.