Posted in Poetry

I’m not a Poet

I’ve never tried being a poet

for surely, I am not

Someone who can dive into emotions,

to think of the world as some

divine creation

waiting for my soliloquy

about the birds and the bees

and the circle that we call life.

I’ve never tried being a poet.

Fiction is all I know.

With plot lines of A,B, and C

and twists that can rot your teeth

for being so sickly sweet

and characters

that jump off the page

begging you to take their hand,

to leap and run

for 365 pages.

I’ve never tried being a poet.

To describe my world

through my minds eye.

To talk of wind howling

at my window pane.

The buzz of electricity surging

as the lamp

illuminates my page.

To talk of the patter of rain

dancing through the sky

to greet my window as one

as I sit here talking about

not being a poet.

I must be a poet.

How could I not?

It’s like a lock to my heart

has come undone

and the words come spluttering out.

To find my rhythm so easily

all these cliches fall free

of soliloquy and rain

and wind howling at my window.

I must be a poet.

I don’t know.

I must be a poet.

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Author:

I'm currently working my way through a Creative and Professional Writing degree in London.

One thought on “I’m not a Poet

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