Like a fraudster
I continue to put my words on the page
Not worthy but I still do
I do not proclaim to be a poet
Some even call me poetess
I don't even know if I doing it write
I'm just trying to clear the mess in my mind
If it reads like a poem
Then maybe I am?
Not a fraud. Just exploring a new and uncertain path. A path to a wonderful place where sunflowers smile to Sun, roses are messengers of love, pink lilies compete with shades of sunset and flowers in the garden drunken from air filed fregrance of magnolia flower. Keep the creativity flowing and never stop writing. Thanks for sharing.
Poetry is never spontaneous outflow but a deliberate manipulation of a sensible heart.Your poem has that sensibility.Thanks for sharing. Binaya.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Honest disclosure of her trepidation with considering herself a poet, while all she really feels like she is doing is putting order to and clearing her mind. If that makes poetry- So Be It!