I’m not a poet

The subject line’s always my disclaimer, whenever I feel like writing something I feel that’s remotely “poetic” — because, really, I’m not a poet.  I do have a few lines to drop every so often — just compile them here (along with my doodles, but that’s another project!), read-out-loud version optional.

For now, here’s a quick one — just me, poking fun at my self-denial: I’m not a poet.


I’m not a poet
I know nothing about rhymes
Don’t ask me about meters
or the prescribed number of lines

I’m not a poet
— what are haiku, even?
Is it five syllables, seven, five?
Or a breath of seven-five-seven?

I’m not a poet
I don’t speak of my broken heart
of the drama of life and death
or of my “longing when we’re apart”

I’m not a poet
poetry doesn’t come to me
not naturally
not suddenly
not miraculously

I’m not a poet
I only have a paper and pen
Words flow through my right hand
just so I can say something
and bring that something to an end.


… and I think it’s only fair to say that I was inspired after listening to Dante Basco’s spoken word collection.

About Cielo

I am a paper-pusher by day, a log by night, an aspiring singer-dancer and a wannabe artist in-between. I am also a Professional Space Cadet.
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