I don’t think I’m a Poet

I don’t think I’m a poet,

Not even the hopeful ‘she will get there type‘

Where people can read my work

And have a reason to spread the hype.

I can’t imagine seeing my name

At the bottom of a post

Or imagine there’d be comments

That would give me a reason to boast.

I can’t see myself on a stage

Speaking out something of my own

Without seeing two or three faces,

Glancing down at their phone

I can’t envision writing a piece

That could start a revolution

Or even a rebellion

Or lesser still, a little agitation

I can’t imagine speaking to hearts

In the way that love songs do

I don’t think they would be moved

Regardless of what I have been through.

And yet many a day, I find

I am unwittingly lost in thought

Trying to say what I want to say

In a rhythmic kind of way

For example, this poem.