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#1

The True Story of How I Became A Poet

ADLondon

Jul 28, 2016

660

2 Mins Read

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Becoming a poet was kind of an accident

Like everything, I bumbled and fumbled

And somehow landed where I am now.

It started with stumbling over a meeting

In the library with a couple people I knew

--Poetry—

They said and I laughed

When I thought poetry,

I thought sad, sad girls, and greasy haired boys

Writing like they lost Lenore

Despite being fifteen and allowance takers

--Poetry—Really?

Yet I had a little book of them leftover

From an original attempt at Speech and Debate

So I tossed it into the contest pile

While helping teachers compile the other

Entries for some fair.

--Poetry—Really?—I won?

First place in a fair, ribbon and all?

I don’t remember winning anything else before

Maybe there was something about this

Something I could get people to look at

What a selfish thought I know.

--Poetry—Really?—I won?—Yes

I was the middle finger of five children

With a mother that couldn’t stand me

With a father that crushed me with expectations

That he didn’t know how to help me with

I was unhappy, un-medicated, and angry

Poetry—Really—I won?—Yes—Help

Suddenly, poetry was what kept me above water

Even when writing short stories failed

This same concept I laughed at years before

And dreaded when mentioned in poetry class,

But they never talked about Ginsberg there

Poetry—Really—I won?—Yes—Help—Envy

I had trouble learning to read and write

And had to work harder at it than everyone else

But after a rough start I just got rolling

I was always reading and always writing

But I always envied the naturals.

Poetry—Really—I won?—Yes—Help—Doubt

I question it every day, even as I write

Is this really what I should be doing

There’s a world to see, places to go,

And yet I lock myself in my room and thoughts

But without it, maybe my heart would stop

Poetry—Really?—I won?—Yes—Help—Envy—Doubt—Love

I haven’t found love yet

I still feel starved for it sometimes

So love poems are out of the question

For the time being I won’t write them

I can’t write love poems, but I love poems

Poetry—Really—I won?—Yes—Help—Envy—Doubt—Love—Finish.

ns 15.158.61.16da2

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