I Stand
I could sit here and write crap all day
and some self-proclaimed pontificator
would criticize it
for the drivel it is
or
love it,
and call it Poetry.
Open-ended…
Free verse…
Just other names for
“Got No Talent”
and no sense of rhythm or rhyme
but
beloved by those
who adore disjointed thought
and random word.
Yes, I am great,
for I stand on a rock and shout
so all the world may hear
my prolific
poetic words.
And because I
catch the eye
of
One Who Is Heard,
who has access
to grant money
or
others who self-proclaim,
I am suddenly,
eternally,
a Poet.
Copyright © Debra Coppinger Hill | Year Posted 2006
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