Not A Poet

I don't write poetry.

I don't.

Existential ramblings, maybe.

Stream-ofconsciousness thoughts

and unfounded social commentaries

made late at night?


NOT poetry.

I'm not a poet. 

I admit it with ease because I'm not. 

I'm no Shakespeare (but who is though? 

no one even knows if Shakespeare is Shakespeare)

I don't compose sonnets of love to my dearly beloved

Or Poe

lamenting over dead women in sepulchres and talking ravens

at the midnight hour, crowing 

'Nevermore! Nevermore!'

Poetry is supposed to move you.

Make you feel 

stir a thought in your brain 

and for a moment-

just a moment -

it'll let you live. 

The words transform into music for your soul 

that enter through your eyes 

and orchestrates a symphony of emotions. 

Emotions that turn into flavors of sweetness from love

the sourness of jealousy and scorn

the bitterness of anger and the fiery spice of rage 

and the blandness of depression and melancholy. 

Poetry speaks to you

it understands your heartache 

and comforts you during your grief

Reading poetry should be like

looking at your soul in the mirror

seeing the vast spectrum of translucent, vibrant beauty 

reflected in its silvered surface

polished so astutely and exactly 

that you could almost touch it and 


be reaching into your own self. 

Poetry is supposed to overwhelm you

like your first trip to the ocean 

when the waves try and swallow you whole with their briny limbs. 

That fear that you feel

it's just the realization 

an affirmation 

of what you've known all along. 

That's Poetry

and it's beautiful and tragic and wonderful.

and I don't write it.



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