First time I took a pen and purged
What was my first two poems
I didn't have the urge
To write
I was just begging for silence
Because words had come alive within me
First they were cooing
Then they were clear and their voices too loud
I pretended a pen was earplugs
Block out the noise
The day I realized that poetry is a calling
I was an infant in my self esteem
Hadn't started teething
I almost gave it away
Because on these streets there's a lot of art
And what I could do with a pen
Always seemed forced, boring, a waste, mediocre
It wasn't until one of my idols
Line for line paraphrased my poem
That I realized not all gods are worth worshiping
Here we are
I write doodles on the wall
And still see a message in it
In every poem I deem worthless
I find pieces of myself
And I have learnt
If there's anything in my universe
That's priceless
It is I
For I was a single cell once
Now everything that exists within me
Can't exist without me
Even these words
A beautiful one on a natural poet. Thanks for sharing. Please kindly check my poems HOPE and THE BEAUTY OF DEATH and leave your comments
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
There is deep sincerity in your words, in the way you write... keep it up. This poem is outstanding.10+