I Am a Poet
I am a poet,
But you'd never know it.
I speak with words of no import,
No sparkling or witty retort.
I am ordinary at best,
Not many are impressed.
Invisible at times I feel,
Yet I know that I am real.
But put a pen in my hand,
And my muse takes command,
Sending words like a flood,
To flow in ink, as though blood.
Magically words appear on blank page,
Lyrical, rhythmic to engage,
Words of spiritual reflection,
Words of wit and introspection.
And when my muse has had her fill,
Of creativity's free will,
I look down at what is finished,
My amazement undiminished.
Yes, I am a poet.
To look at me you'd not know it,
But read my written words and you'll see,
A creative cache of poetry.
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