PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I was poet
before I was woman
words drew upon me
my first true breath
I languished in textures and sound
light and its infinite structures
before puberty produced for me even a hint
I possessed a silent suffering thirst
for the poetic path
before I ever had a particular love
to lavish this timeless venue of expression
upon
yet to my youth bedazzled detriment
such woes remained distant and elusive
and then to my eventual life altering fortune
I was directly introduced to that spirit song
called POETRY
through but one so common force meant of
seeking
I humble myself now to truthfully attest
I recall the catalyst well
it was
the fourth grade
Roosevelt E. on Camden A.
blanks burg , W.V.
Mr. Hunt
fourth period
his classroom
the top front left windows of the
quarry stone building
(I have a photo of me in that very class
in my fourth grade year book!)
Poetry Appreciation it was called
or some vulgar such back then
his words and Mr. Rogers way of speaking
(of Mr. Rogers neighborhood fame on PBS)
still clean house in my poetic memories
CLASS , he said
YOU MUST WRITE A POEM
PREFERABLY ONE THAT RHYMES
YOU CAN MAKE IT ABOUT ANYTHING YOU LIKE
BUT MAKE IT SOMETHING INTERESTING
TURN IT IN ON MY DESK
COMPLETED
NO LATER THAN FRIDAY!
and for me
monkey's playing and a recently heard
old P.T. Barnum famous saying
tripped over in my young mind
and collided to become
MY FIRST EVER MUSE
and quite ironically
but not yet realized by myself
at that then so dreaded moment
what was to be
my deeper life
was that day earth born
a refuge of addictive rhythm
a gambit of colorful pictures
painted with the wonder of words
framed in emphatic flow
and yes Mr. Hunt
some still rhyme even today
but that fateful day
I didn't know
nor even remotely suspected
not for a great many years to come
what that one little assignment to me
would come to mean
looking back
why even now
I still have so much on which to reflect
the poet was formed and fostered very early on
taking on more and more an appealing shape
and manner all her own
as the mind constructed itself and grew
albeit
books
experience
play
wit
imagination
intellect
tragedy and hunger
breath and range
all in their way
became building blocks
and subject matter
and from the utilization
of these abundantly rich materials
the strong firm independent
gentle kind and loving
LADY POETESS
emerged
triumphant
in her full confident height
my quintessential self
my mentor
my true soul
my idol speaking out
from behind her confines
this earthly flawed mask
she must wear
for a little while longer
called ME..................
(Oct.5,2002 930pm)