Born-Poet - Poem by s./j. goldner
you go to a nice grade school
an even nicer high school
you go off to a decent university
eighteen summers add one....
you fall in love;
get wasted, baked and burned—
have all the experiences that shape you into
the person you were all along.
coming back one winter afternoon,
you're spread across your rooftip
staring out into the blank waste
—hoping you were some kinda born-poet in the first place.
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Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You