How I Knew I Was a Poet

How I Knew I Was a Poet

In the cool breeze
of a warm day,
on a northern shore
far from any ocean,
poets talked in silence,
leaves rustling
with each page turned,
and eyes met.

That was where it began.

Words, spoken and carried
on a stellar breeze,
joining two hearts,
their radiance a nebula,

and I knew I was a poet.

Looking back six years, and we are now together five years in Missouri, to the day.  A day of celebration. (She makes up for the Missouri part of it.)

21 thoughts on “How I Knew I Was a Poet

  1. Kind of reminds me of a time when I was in Chicago with a group of friends, and we visited The Poetry Foundation’s new building . . . a library of poetry . . . it was about six years ago. Hmm . . . funny coincidence. Same time frame as your poem. Lucky gal, I think. 😉

    Liked by 2 people

  2. I enjoyed hearing this read out. I attended Hull University and Philip Larkin made a huge effort to get live poets to record their own work. It is lovely hearing the human voice story telling and poetry reading thank you.


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