Poets
Aren't Geniuses.
No, my friend.
No, pal.
They aren't geniuses, my dear.
Nowhere near.
Who is a poet?
Is he is a parson.
Or a person?
Is he a bard,
With a beard?
Is he a mouse,
With words
As his house?
Is a Stratford Upon Devon-er,
Is a Shakespeare,
Someone who thinks
Till he can
Barely
Hear himself
Out?
Is he the God,
Without
A Truce?
Is he an Overwhelm
Hemmed
With
Creative Juice?
Is he a catacomb,
Who
Can't
Locate his comb?
Is he Number 4,
Or Number 6,
Or Number 7?
Or,
Is He simply a miracle
With a tryst with
Heaven?
Is he
A scholar
Who
Gets things right?
Can
He be
A playwright?
Or,
Just think awhile,
Can he be
An Ordinary
Someone,
Who finds,
That he can't write,
At a certain point?
O Poet.
You are tougher than suet,
But you have thoughts
That Just Can't
Do It.
You Are Normal.
You are Normal.
You are Normal.
You are a Poet.
Aren't Geniuses.
No, my friend.
No, pal.
They aren't geniuses, my dear.
Nowhere near.
Who is a poet?
Is he is a parson.
Or a person?
Is he a bard,
With a beard?
Is he a mouse,
With words
As his house?
Is a Stratford Upon Devon-er,
Is a Shakespeare,
Someone who thinks
Till he can
Barely
Hear himself
Out?
Is he the God,
Without
A Truce?
Is he an Overwhelm
Hemmed
With
Creative Juice?
Is he a catacomb,
Who
Can't
Locate his comb?
Is he Number 4,
Or Number 6,
Or Number 7?
Or,
Is He simply a miracle
With a tryst with
Heaven?
Is he
A scholar
Who
Gets things right?
Can
He be
A playwright?
Or,
Just think awhile,
Can he be
An Ordinary
Someone,
Who finds,
That he can't write,
At a certain point?
O Poet.
You are tougher than suet,
But you have thoughts
That Just Can't
Do It.
You Are Normal.
You are Normal.
You are Normal.
You are a Poet.
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