Poetry is just taking

Fear
Pain
And anger
And forcing it into words

Poetry is simply taking

Sadness
Depression
And anxiety
And giving it rhythm

Poetry is merely taking

Worry
Love
And broken hearts
And making it a pattern

Poetry is taking these things
And writing it in blood
Pouring your heart out
And giving them life

The elements and I
Have a special connection

Earth:
I feel as though,
I am six feet under
Every day and night

Wind:
The gale's greedy fingers
Push me slowly
Toward the edge of the cliff

Water:
The strong ocean
Pushes me under
Continually

Fire:
The beautiful flames
Lick my skin
Slowly burning me to ash

I have a special connection
With the elements

I first saw them yesterday
In the breakfast que
Suitcase clutched in bony hand
Suspicious glances all around
As the numbers round them grew

Now though I found it rather odd
That they would act this way
It might have been simply
That they'd just got off a plane

However later on that day
I saw them sitting by the pool
Suitcase there within hands reach
And wife stuck to him like glue

I had to know the answer
To the suitcase mystery
And so I asked him outright
About what was going on

He said all I hold dear is contained
Inside this case my pyjamas and my washbag
And stuff my wife puts on her face
But surely I said it would  be safe inside your room
He glared at me in shocked surprise
I trust no one in a foreign land
And so my case and contents
Will stay close to hand