I am a poet.
My hands shake in ecstasy
upon the sight of
pens and blank sheets scattered
about carelessly on my desk.

I am a poet.
My forehead in its wrinkled
state impress wealth
of reflection, inspired by
the magnificence of nature.

I am a poet.
My blood streams passion in
every heartbeat;
words flow in my thoughts like a
river finding its way to the sea.

I am a poet.
My adrenaline rush through
raptured veins as my
senses amuse themselves with
the lavish colors of my hurt.

I am a poet.
My creative archetype
groove with festive thumps
as silence bounce about in
rhythmic union with my laughter.

I am a poet
by virtue of who I am
and what I feel as
I seek of an avenue,
I write my life space with faith
and ardor of a craftsman
that indeed I am
a POET.