Being A Poet

Being A Poet short poem

Photo by takomabibelot

While my ten fingers are busy forming the letters into words,
A thousand thoughts forming in my mind as it creates something to accord.
A tons of things to ponder and wonder,
A lot of imaginations to expand and discover.

I imagine the stars in the universe,
I imagine the clear blue waters in the ocean to rise,
I imagine the forms of the leaf as it prints into my hand,
I imagine you as my subjects that rings as it enters into my mind.

How many letters shall I start forming words?
What figures and faces shall I start drawing into my canvas?
What kind of style will I use to create a poem dedicated to you?
How much time do I have to finish this writing I wrote about you?

Will you be the first to read the things I wrote?
Will you be the first to understand the words I formed?
Will you be the first to feel my feelings I have deeply included?
Will you be the first to let me know how hard it is to become a Poet?

Rate the poem
1 Star2 Stars3 Stars4 Stars5 Stars (1 votes, average: 3.00 out of 5)
We are posting your rating...

Have something to say about the poem?

Reagan Latumbo

Signup / Login to follow the poet.
Singer. Poet Writer.I love singing and singing will always be my stint forever.Just like what I have said above, I am totally a lover of poems.I wrote straight from the heart, from my experience.I am a graduate of Bachelor of Secondary Education major in English in the Philippines.I dreamed of publishing some of my poems I wrote a few years back until now.
Poems you will love

Give your feedback / review for the poem

Be the First to Comment & Review poem!

Notify of

Being A Girl.

Being A Girl. short poem

what is her fault? just ”being a girl”. Took her to the worst, left nothing to curse. No sense nor an idea, why and what is going on her. Calling out mom, wished hearts would really connected. considered her an

Return Of The Poet

Return Of The Poet short poem

It is autumn grapes are bleeding. The orange color seeps into your eyes. Will you shut the green lids? You, start reading backward. Atavistic instinct to dig up the severed hands? Your house, died in the flower bed. Seeds were

The Poet Turns 100 (in Honor Of Stanley Kunitz)

The Poet Turns 100 (in Honor Of Stanley Kunitz) short poem

The Poet Turns 100 In Honor of Stanley Kunitz When my body wears to dust let the remains be language find only verbs at the core struck flints from explosive ore nouns charged with names of foes and lovers cool

Being Me

Being Me long poem

Does the society know my stand? I am not with a price tag to be sold to a man. I work everyday till the sky is red, till the earth turns black and the sound is dead. Why me? My

I Am Not A Poet!

I Am Not A Poet! short poem

I am not a Poet, with legacy, nor do I sound poetic.. At times, in an impulse to explore my wildest emotions, words spill out, blocking way to rationalism.. in those verses in different shades neither rhyme, nor reason.. Trust