Poetry

Tue, 07/05/2016 - 14:44 -- Author

Poetry was the hidden frontier

Veiled from those like me who had a spark but were terrified to light the flame

Poetry was restricted to a few special

Those who were brave to take a chance

Those who dared to venture into the open and leap into thin air

Because calling yourself a poet had untold consequences

You were expected to act a certain way

You could not be disturbed for every quiet moment was your time to think

You were to be awed at

Inspired by

Why you were a poet, were you not?

But what about me? And those like me?

We were scared to call ourselves that.

 

Could we not explore the literary mines on our own?

Bring our own pencils and jot some ideas in our free will?

No for poetry was divine.

There was no doodling.

Unless your work was godly and beautiful to the ears-

Don’t even dare call yourself a poet

 

Unless of course

You have an idea

It better be a good idea

An idea worthy of becoming a poem

Worthy of blossoming into an art form

Poetry isn’t definitive

It is free flowing and as resilient as the wind

It flows and it accepts all

Right?

Wrong.

 

It only accepts those who have been preselected

Those who are ready to accept the challenge

You must create literature

William Shakespeare better be proud

For who’s a better judge than him?

No I refuse

I wish to stand up to this

I want to be a poet

I want to doodle

I want to explore these depths of poetry on my own

Why do you care?

I will become a poet

Just you see

Who are you to stop me?

 

I may not be preselected but I am courageous

I want to take a risk

I will run headfirst into the maze of poetry

And when I find my way out, you will have regretted stopping me.

You will have lamented hiding me form this beauty because you were afraid

 

Afraid that I would be better

Afraid that I would turn out stronger

But why the fear? Why can’t you support me as I grow?

Because I’m a girl?

No.

 

Girls can write poetry

Girls can explore the frontier just fine.

No I will bring my own pencil

And I will write my own poem

A poem sturdier than yours ever was

Because my poem is made of tears and fear and confidence and freedom and joy

Because I have surpassed your warnings, your obstacles

Because I have risen from the weak and learned to build myself up

You are not superior to me because of your gender

Don’t ever use that on me

You thought you were better?

We are equal and I may be better if this is your form of supremacy

Supremacy created from the tribulations of victims

But I will now speak

 

And my voice will resound since it is the call and the echo

Those who have spoken before and those who have yet to speak

You tried to hide me from this art

You have tried to hide me from the intricacies of life

But now I will reveal it to you

Because Poetry does accept all

And I have now accepted the invitation

Because I too am part of the special few

Who have embraced poetry for its illuminating shine

Its sense of promise and opportunity

Who have felt the radiance of other poems and now wish to do the same

 

Because poetry is not the hidden frontier

It is the vast expanse of land that you will explore

That you will travel

And that you will soon call your own

        

This poem is about: 
Me
My community
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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