Oct 21
lindstove's picture


I don’t say “poet” often
It feels wrong on my tongue
Poet” feels uneasy
 An itchy sweater your mother told you to put on
In a way she has
I’ve been surrounded by “poetry” all my life
But it feels unattainable
A gift meant for a different girl.

I realize now
When I can afford to think a little
That I am a “poet
I think in “poetry
When I put my thoughts down
They squiggle out of 
The boundaries of a paragraph
Into the arms of the “poetry” I scorn.

I have recently become a grateful person
Just within this past year
Who has the time to ignore their surroundings
Breathe them in,
Savor the fact that they’re there
To me that is “poetry”.

This new title of “poet” feels cozy
Roomy too
Which I guess just means I have room to grow
If you’re reading this Mr. Moore
Congrats, you’ve won
I’m a “poet” now
Or at least I think so.