Not A Poet Poem by Leslie Alexis

If I were a poet,
I would write of peace,
of bird and bees,
of flowers and trees,
but I am not a poet... it seems...
these words are from a thief!
A beggar, a pauper,
who knows not peace, but war,
for the muse is very far.

And I cannot force her will
To return to the verdant hill,
where she planted as I played;
I can only wish she stayed.
But I was abusive, you see,
I didn't help with the duties,
So she was right to leave.
But now I must be a thief!
That jumps the fence for relief
on the roots of previous harvests.
And the watchman wishes me ill,
He wishes that I leave with nil,
So he always shoots to kill.

This is my war.
To appease my hunger
To not die, I suffer
that the muse see my need of her
and return as my reliever.