Everyone’s written a poem or two.  In my early 20s, I wrote a lot.  Yeah, I was the guy who toted around a copy of the concise OED and set it next to my clipboard with stacked empty pages, filling them slowly, turning them over, and refreshing my English breakfast tea every couple hours.  Like many, writing helped shape my thoughts about myself and the world around me — my living, vital, dynamic quality.  I don’t claim any of it is any good; actually, most of it is in the range of bad to so-so.  If you’re just going to peek, I recommend diving into the 1998-2001 range:  ErikBarryErhardt_poetry_selected.pdf.