The Poet

I remember the first time I called myself a poet When someone asked what I do With all the time in my day Not really sure how to answer That one very easy question It somehow slipped from my mouth At that time this way I'm A Poet?... Still unsure if I was worthy to call myself that Though as the saying goes "I had just now made my bed" And sleep in it I will For poetry to me is a thrill With it being the only way To remove the thoughts from my head But Dare I Say I'm A Poet?... But that's what poets do! They write words that flow through In hopes of sparking a thought or feeling In another persons mind So as I live out each day I let the words fall where they may With a thought that someone will be delighted When reading the poems they may find So I Guess I Could Call Myself A Poet?... Now on a mental crusade you might say On a journey through the thoughts And different memories of my life Writing down everything That decides to develop in my mind After life and dreams... Some petty little things... Though nothing... To be ever written... In spite... This Is Me "The Poet!"... :o) PD's Contest: The Poet 2-26-13