How do you become a poet?

When I first started
A poet
Was someone reading
Lines about peace
And the end of war
In a dimly lit cafe

But to be a poet
There is no expectation
On who you're supposed to be

You could be the kid
Who wears all black and never speaks
You could be the cheerleader
Who never stops speaking
You could be the star quarterback
Or the quiet artist

To be a poet
You must have a soul
You must be willing to write
About what's deep inside

To be a poet
You musn't be afraid
Of what people might say
When you put your heart on the sleeve

To be a poet
You don't have to expose it all
But you must share a little
Because I'm guaranteed
Someone else is feeling it too

No one wants to read the generic
It's been said
So many times
And in so many ways

So be creative
Be out there
Be spontaneous
Write your heart and soul

Poets are artists
Expressing their feelings
Through words
Showing their soul
To the world
When no one close
Can hear them

Sometimes
Being an artist
Of any kind
Is hard

Sometimes
You don't write for awhile
But that's okay
One day
Inspiration will hit you
And it will be beautiful

I like to think
That I'm a true poet
I write about my hurt
My love
My friends and family

I write about what I see around me
I write about what I feel
What I think
I write about what I hide

Does this make me a true poet?
I'm not sure
I suppose that's not for me to decide

But what I see
When I read other poems
Is a group of people
Putting aside differences

To show their pain
To vent
To show their love
To express what's inside

And I think
It's truly beautiful

I think we are all *true poets

If you burn a flower,
it happens slowly. (to you)
It may be astonishing
to watch and smell and feel,
but just look at what you've done
to the flower...
There are traces left;
the scent lingers,
but that flower will never be the same.
The colors are no longer vibrant.
The flower becomes stale and dried out.
It becomes so frail
that touching it
could wither the rest
of what is left behind.
The worst part is that
you have never been,
could never be a flower.
You don't know what it is
to be a flower, you don't know
what it feels like when it is burning.
You blindly take action against nature
not fearing the consequence.
Nature is there for you,
nature takes care of you.
Look at what you have done
to this beautiful flower that you
once held so dear?
Foolish little boy;
once you stop caring for your planet,
the planet no longer takes an interest in you.
It no longer respects you,
feels the need to protect and nurture you.
You have taken this flower,
this gift of the universe and damaged it.
When the rain stops falling and the gardens
cease growth, don't curse the skies and the soil.
Return to the empty flower-bed where you
found that brilliant flower standing,
firmly rooted in the earth and extending up
to you awaiting it's water and food.
Feeding you it's beloved oxygen.
That flower is gone,
it has moved on to a new life,
with new purpose.
Once you waste something away,
you cannot get it back.
The lesson is hard to learn,
but none the less, you have learned it.
It is a  s h a m e ,
the earth loses flowers every day
for little boys to learn big lessons.
**kd