Poem for Sunday: I Am Not A Poet

I Am Not A Poet 

An introspective poem by Pete Rapp

I am not a poet, nor do I claim to be.

I am no laureate, and cannot claim to see for us all, or to have seen all there is to see.

In truth I find it hard to see when there’s parts of me that are yet to be; 

There are parts of me which make me scream.

It comes often, nightly in fact:

The mirror, the stumbling block,

The question that is no more a question than a merry-go-round!

When I’m alone, too alone, and too much thinking occurs; for I cannot claim to see.

I can claim to see what I have and to fight it is to grow.

I can make a futile attempt

At putting words on a page

For no reason other than a compulsive need to do so.

I know not what to do, or where to go, or how to move.

The only sure thing I know is that I am not sure.

The usual doubts and insecurities return even as I write: these words may be awful by tomorrow!

This page aims for no more

Than a tiny change, in me or my world,

That would lighten the weight on my chest.

I am not a poet, nor do I claim to be.

Oh how I wish, though, how I wish that I could get to sleep.