Why do we write, whey do you paint?

April is poetry month. This is new poem number thirty.

Why do we write? Why do we paint? Why do we create?

The poet don’t cry. He write the misery of life to paper. He write about days of joy.

He wrote about memories and kisses. Some say. Poets love words more than love.

I adore the artist. With tender fingers, they create vision of places, visions of faces and

visions of twisted thoughts. They say. Painters are madmen, madwomen. They can

see too much in everything.

Us who love to write. We love to fall into the folly of life. Poets love to paint words to

create tears, to create laughter and remind us. Live more, dance more and drink more.

I believe we need the writers, we need the poets and we need the artist. They create

left-over memories. We need to remember.

My favorite are the war poets, writers who write of the ugliness of war. We need these

memories. Maybe we won’t repeat them?

Coyote

Author's Note

Thank you for reading.