So What Is So Great About Being A Poet?


So what is so great about being a poet?

I don’t mean to slam

slam poetry.

But I ask again,

what is so great about being a poet.

We are taught to believe to express ourselves.

That to truly express ourselves,

we must be poets.

That if you want to be sensitive,




That to truly comprehend the human condition,

That to make sense of this world we live in,

That to be of value to your fellow man.

You have

to be

a poet.

But what is a poet?

I say, a poet is nothing more than an armpit sniffing layabout

who leaves crumpled papers on the floor

for others to clean up.

Case in point.





Dead at 36.


In the closet.


Momma’s boy.



Beaten up on the streets.

Dead at 40.

Sylvia Plath.


Head in the oven.

With her kids in the next room.

Ezra Pound.


TS Eliot.

Secret Nazi.

Dorothy Parker.


Black listed.




Ashes passed/ from person to person/ till her cremated remains/came to rest,

in her lawyer’s file cabinet/ for Seventeen years.


Again, what is so great about being a poet?


You want to know the real meaning of life.

Ask Darwin

who connected us with our monkey fore-mothers.

Ask Einstein

who’s allowed us to travel through time and space.

Ask Curie

who discovered the power that radiates from rocks.

Ask Newton

who saw a falling apple as the explanation for why we remain grounded on this planet.

Ask Gutenburg

who gave us books.

Ask Mandela

who freed a nation.

Ask Gates

who opened up the world-wide web.

Ask Oprah!,

yeah, you can ask Oprah anything.

She knows the answer.

Not one poet in the group

and yet they were sensitive.

They were deep.

They were perceptive.

They were insightful.

They not only expressed themselves but they made it possible for everyone of us to express ourselves.


So what is so great about being a poet?

You want to change the world?

You want to make things different for yourself?

You want to make things different for other people?

Be a scientist.

Be an inventor.

Be a communicator.

Be an activist.

Don’t be the person leaving messes for others to clean up.

            While you’re busy sniffing your own armpits.

Be the person with the solution.

Be the person who has something real to say.

And as for me,

I am not a poet.

I am going to be a Special Education Teacher.

And now you know it. 



I hope you all enjoy my poem!

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741