How I Write a Poem

Standard

My overall thought when I was sitting at the back while Mr. RPP was teaching poetry in an English Class at STE 9A:

A word enters into my head
Like a stray bullet,
As a housefly on my bed.
The word then leaves
With the wind
And soon re-arrives
Like a thief.
But afterwards branches
To words, to verses
As I put them
On a flyleaf.
Yet still, poetry and me
Are in mutual hatred,
Menacing, messing
Each other’s existence.
So after this piece
I shall write no stanza
Nor another poem.
And please read
The first line of this thing
This is the usual start
And at the same time
The end of my every poetry.

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