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...
To be ever written...
This Is Me "The Poet!"... :o)
PD's Contest: The Poet