I submitted my poem
to a teacher, Mr Rowan
and he graded it an F
Still, I’m a great poet
he just doesn’t yet know it
but some day he’ll have to confess

though he’ll give me an E
yet when it comes to poetry
I’m the greatest poet there ever was
I’ll climb my way to a D
just wait and you’ll C
I’ll prove it just because

I’ll let go and let B
he’ll wonder if it’s me?
A poet born not made
he’ll grant me an A
on a poem I’ll tear up that day
and prove I’m more than just a grade

The moon was afraid to rise
so it settled for the night
gave the day to the sun
and in doing
compromised its light
Now often every evening
as soon as the sun will set
it makes an appearance
before the sky and day reset
And like tears, the stars twinkle
while the moon mourns regret
how light once sparkled
now just sprinkle
of things you lose but can’t forget

One may have knowledge
but not everyone will have skill

One may have a skill
but not everyone will have talent

One may have a talent
but not everyone will have a voice

One may have a voice
but not everyone has something to say

One may have something to say
but not everyone will listen.