I'M A Poet Poem by Cheryl Griffith

I wanted to write a poem
But words evaded me
And ideas escaped my mental spectrum
I thought and thought again
Of what to say
But everything was said and said
Of right and wrong, good and evil
Peace and war, religion and God,
love and lovers and sad, happy songs
Nothing is new under the sun

I tried to devise a verse
Something new that was never heard
But every thought was old
Like that old man seated next to me
With creases and lines upon his face
And thin, white, sparse hair upon his head
Sticking out like spikes
Like the lines and space of differences that separate the races
Like the spikes that sometimes prick our hearts
But not enough for change
Same old yesterday, same misery and pain upon his face
Same old lies, same misunderstanding, same old fears
Same political games keep playing
Same injustice inflicted upon the same people
And from forefathers to forefathers
Same old tears crying
And I wondered why
And how can we embrace new still holding onto the old
So what then? Should I lock-up vision, box-in my imagination,
And swallowing words and punctuation become dumb
Should I lock-up paper and pen
Until then, until change?
Then I remembered, I'm a poet