To Me

English teachers often hearken back to simpler days

And swoon over Shakespearean verse

But the Bard’s sonnets often put my mind in a haze

His archaic words scorning me like a curse


But while I was bound to that classroom

Traipsing down the path of prose

I tumbled into poetry’s relentless vacuum

And never again arose


Now my mind is feverish and scrambled--

Pentameter, stanzas, and rhyme!

I have conquered where I once blindly gambled

With my precious words and time


I take the title of poet

Not just to share my art

To be a poet is to serve

And I serve those with wounded hearts


Those trapped by a failing system

Those suffering at the hands of their fellow man

I write to share human wisdom

I write to take a stand


To me, poetry means nothing

If it does not serve humanity


To me, poetry means everything

If it leads people to serve one another

This poem is about: 
My community
My country
Our world


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