What is a poet?
If you do not write yourself,
How can you know it?
Well-stocked is the shelf
Of available writings-
There’s abundant wealth:
Too many tidings
Of thought to have read them all,
Not enough sightings
Can ever befall
The words of an amateur,
Whose works truly call
Out in overture;
Portals to the poet’s head.
The works start to blur,
Begging to be read.
Poets, like petrified wood,
Will never lie dead:
From beyond Time’s hood,
Their words are immortalized;
In death, understood.
A poet carves their soul in what they write,
So that even dead, they can take up the fight.
Jan 23
Jan 23, 2026 at 12:56 PM UTC
What is a poet?
If you do not write yourself,
How can you know it?
Well-stocked is the shelf
Of available writings-
There’s abundant wealth:
Too many tidings
Of thought to have read them all,
Not enough sightings
Can ever befall
The words of an amateur,
Whose works truly call
Out in overture;
Portals to the poet’s head.
The works start to blur,
Begging to be read.
Poets, like petrified wood,
Will never lie dead:
From beyond Time’s hood,
Their words are immortalized;
In death, understood.
A poet carves their soul in what they write,
So that even dead, they can take up the fight.
:3
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