what makes me write?

A question I sometimes wonder about, but in truth it's really not a conscious decision. I get the urge sometimes, and I can go a long time without. When I started writing poetry, back in the dark days of November 2004, the first few items took a while to form, and then it started flowing like a fountain. Until the day, that is, that it seemed to stop. It was as if the voice inside had had its say and was content to just allow me to go on living without it wanting to express itself.

Now the voice awakes rarely. The most recent time was one evening when I was feeling unexpectedly poorly and challenged. It was almost as if the voice inside suddenly woke up to the possibility of being silenced altogether. A scary moment and not one that happens often.

I'd like to be able to write frequently; I'd like it to be upbeat and positive at times, but that's simply not the way it works (at the moment).

Simon