Emerson, Tennyson, Chaucer, Shakespeare
Wadsworth, Whitman, a William several times I fear.
Poetry entered my life through reading.
From Longfellow’s nature to Hughes’ flow
from the "Free Spirit" of Angelou
to the Darkness of Poe.
I learned their literature
and appreciated their techniques.
I learned through their poems the volumes they speak.
Slavery, corruption, murder, death,
abolition, freedom, nature, reflect
on the minds of those poets and the tales they told
and the influence they had on my mind, and my soul.
Thoughts, ideas, goals, aspirations
flown from different universes, from generation to generation.
In my mind I saw the genius,
the power of their poetry,
the intricacies and convenience
and I decided try it.
I became a hypocritical poet,
one who can write and yet does not
one who knows literary devices
not in name but in thought.
Patterns and rhyme schemes I seemed to mash and mix
but in my mind the talent was fixed.
My mother encouraged my work
my talent grew,
and every so often, I learned a trick or two.
Unfortunately, I put down the “pen”,
my metaphorical sword, only to be seen
once every now and again.
My poetry skills continue to serve me well, however
especially in my musical endeavors.
It is what taught me to express myself in writing
instead of inwardly fighting and outwardly spiting.
But still hypocritical I remain
until I pick up my “pen” again.