– Telmo Dos Santos

Playwright, poet, man about town
I want to write poems too
But I am uncertain
Regarding preparation

Can I get up everyday
Alone in a too small apartment
Be content with small things
Such as hot black coffee
At café Beano

Can I be a good father?

A person enters the world
To be a person
To conquer the self
Or to be conquered
By that dark patch
Within

One does not need
To be prepared
There is no preparation
One simply does
One gets to work
One works hard

One fails
And gets up the next day
Still wounded
To fail again
But the mind is made up
It is a choice between
The pain of discipline
Solitude and  struggle
And regret

If I could ask
Did you ever waiver
Did you ever delay
When and for how long
How did you stop/start
Where did you find strength?

If I could sit across you
Look at your improbable
Long blond parted wavy hair
Your cigarette sucking
Weathered face
Your bulging glossed eyes
A slightly bent Dutch frame

I doubt you would say
Much
But I would know

It was not easy