I CAN’T HELP MYSELF

There are those people

who walk into a room

and their presence is poignant.

 

Sometimes

folks stop talking

as if some electricity

zips their mouths shut.

 

There are those people

who walk into a room

and nobody notices —

the invisible man.

 

When I was young

I was invisible.

 

I became a preacher

in part

so folks would take notice.

 

And they did.

 

Then I got to the point

where

I didn’t need to be noticed.

 

I didn’t care if I was or wasn’t.

 

That’s how it is with me now.

 

I write poems every day

not to be noticed

but because

I can’t help myself.

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