“I am no poet, I’m awful I say”
Deanna Prochko
I am no poet, I’m awful, I say.
They do not flow smoothly, the words I choose.
Why am I writing when I go outside and play?
When it comes to poetry I will lose.
My vocabulary is small and I hate rhyming.
My format structure is weak
Don’t even mention my timing.
When it comes to poems, I turn the other cheek.
But wait, what is this I’m doing right here?
Is it true or do my eyes deceive me?
Perhaps my poetry skills are quite near,
And to writing poems, I possess the key.
If I stop complaining and start to try,
Poetry might make me smile, not cry.
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