True <br /> <br />I did not want to be a poet, <br />I was dragged into it screaming, <br />But with all my innards teeming <br />with the words, the passion <br />that I never knew was there. <br />Into that maze called “poetry” <br />Where I never thought I’d be- <br />“Poetry? Ha! ” <br /> <br />I don’t wear a green carnation - <br />Poetry was something such <br />I never fancied very much. <br />At least I thought I couldn’t do it <br /> <br />Do what? <br />Write in words that sing and rhyme <br />And shake and make your heart beat faster <br />So you forget each small and great disaster <br />of the past - <br />So they will all be quite subdued and unattached. <br /> <br />But Poetry’s a two-edged saber <br />That can force you to remember <br />All those things you really should forget. <br />Where does that leave us? <br /> <br />I suppose it really leaves us <br />With a grievous choice to make. <br />However, we are living still. <br />Otherwise you couldn’t read <br />this doggerel that I must write <br />for you to read and think about <br />so you will see <br />my inward, burning, glowing, light.<br /><br />Fred Babbin<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/poetry-ha/
