Born of Poetry

I was born of poetry The daughter of Metaphor and Simile God fashioned Each valve, each vein, each artery as a string in my fabric--poetic artistry. Weaving through my body leading to my heart The da-dum, da-dum, da-dum, da-dum, da-dum keeping steady meter like a washing machine The electricity of my heart. I was weaned on a diet of language and abstract art "Hello mommy" "Hello daddy" "Mine" I was no Albert Einstein, but I was a master rhymer, an epic writer, a lyrical fighter, a peculiar primer, a world lighter, and i was only four years old on my daddy's should--ers, I yelled "Mademoiselle Rizel, Mademoiselle Rizel, Mademoiselle Rizel" He taught me more He taught me that lies rhymes with cries rhymes with my first goodbyes, but there was nothing good about it. There were " I want you backs" in gift form, but they weren't worth my time My mom gave me a cardboard box and on its walls, I rhymed. I spilled secrets like, "Wait..Mommy, how do you spell together?" "You spell it like to get her" I giggled at the thought. I want my family to be together forever I scribbled on its walls. She took me to the library when I was six She taught me this. She taught me that loyalty is a slant rhyme for responsibility, but twice rhymes with wife rhymes with sacrifice, but never let life's ifs hold you back. There were her feelings in book form that I sought to follow. "This is the right night to write"- age six And every other night that follows My toes curl when inspired I aspire, I desire, I perspire. I am a wanna-be poet Gerund-ing my feelings Splash! Splashing a homogeneous mixture of ink, personification, and onomatopoeia on paper for the kids that need imagination, emancipation, Suffering from degradation and discrimination Searching for love, but only finding unrequited infatuation Poor literally, lyrically, and spiritually. God, "Your eyes saw my unformed body; All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be." Psalms 139:16 I was born of poetry The electricity of my heart like a washing machine The da-dum, da-dum, da-dum, da-dum, da-dum keeping steady meter leading to my heart weaving through my body as a string in my fabric--poetic artistry Each valve, each vein, each artery God fashioned The daughter of Metaphor and Simile I was born of poetry