–What do you do? people inquire politely.

–I am a writer I say.

–What do you write? they ask.

–I am a poet.

–Oh, they say.

This sometimes puts an uncomfortable spin on further conversation.

Most people, it seems, are a little intimidated in the presence of someone claiming to be a Poet.  Either they “don’t read poetry” or they think of poetry as an intellectual realm outside their interests or they connect with poetry mainly by way of inspirational posters and greeting cards–all notions that put a damper on whatever we might talk about next.

It’s hard to explain being a Poet, sort of like it’s hard to explain being a Christian–as in, I’m a Christian, but not that kind of Christian. (I’ve been in a position to attempt both explanations.)

Truthfully, I have my quarrel with the poetry these days. The fact is, thousands of people write poems. Today, online technology has provided every one of them with a platform.  Some of the contributors to the digital universe are Poets. Others? Arguably not. No one agrees on a definition of Poetry, and everyone who reads poetry has their preferences. I celebrate this diversity, even as I select what to read, or not, day by day. Plenty of poetry being written nowadays doesn’t float my boat. However, I respectfully suggest that you give Read a Poem Every Day* a fair try. There’s lots to choose from, and you’re just a click away from expressing your opinion of it one way or another.

Lately, I’ve been experiencing an unexpected feeling–a sense that I have “arrived” as a Poet. That is, I have come to a place my young self dreamed of, but in an entirely different way than I had previously imagined.  Once upon a time, I sought after a long list of publishing credits, prizes, critical recognition, applause from a live audience.  Even some authority figure who would make the pronouncement: Yea, thou art a Poet.

What has actually happened is more subtle, and more satisfying: I have friends. Friends I’ve never met except in the realm of Poetry. Friends who share my beliefs–and prejudices–about what Poetry should be.  Friends who introduce me to astonishing new experiences of Poetry.  Some of them are Poets–prize-winning, critically admired, widely published Poets.  Some of them are readers who tell me they liked something I wrote.  A few of them–a mystery audience–have even bought my books. (Thank you).  All these friends I’ve met through poetry give me the sense of belonging that’s embedded deeply in all human desire.

Being a Poet may involve a unique gift of talent and the urgency to write.  I have always written poetry. I have worked at my craft since I could hold a pencil. I have pursued all the goals mentioned above with some success. But the real reward of it all besides making poems is making friends. Since you’re reading this, you are certainly one of them, and I am grateful for you.

Here’s a gentle little poem I wrote in the beginning, a long time ago.  I hope you’ll want to read more.

A POEM

Let it come to you quietly

   as sleep spilling

      into the lid of day.

Let it flow as naturally

   as rain running

      over the eaves of May.

Let it touch as tenderly

   as lovers’ hands,

Be still

and easy as afternoon shadows

   sliding

      down a long hill.

Published in The Lyric Spring 1974

*Not an actual website.  Google your own poetry adventure.