The title of poet,
Now generally brings a chuckle,
Suppressed or no.
It conjures up an image in the mind,
An image of lonely teenagers,
Crying out in angst and exaggerated pain,
But I am here to tell you different,
I am here to show you the art of a true poet.
You should know, a poem can never be planned,
If thought out beforehand it will never come to pass,
It must be caught in the dawning,
Just as it comes to you,
It begins as a lump in the throat,
It comes from the tossing, twisting, and turning of the stomach,
Or perhaps it is the beauty of nature,
That inspires the hand to write,
Yet, 'tis not only the hand that writes,
'Tis also the heart,
It requires the mind,
It is an exploration of the soul,
Which can begin by no other means.
An it...
Is poetry
Kristen Currey
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/definition-of-a-poet-2/
