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About the Poem

I wrote this poem after repeatedly hearing people say things like . . .

"Poets don't get famous until they die, ya know." and "No one will appreciate your gift until you kick the bucket my friend!"

Often I have thought, Who needs glory? I'd prefer just to be heard and to touch people on that innermost level. So, listen to me while I am alive World. Don't wait until I am a member of The Dead Poet’s Society.

From A Living Poet

I Aim to be a Lyrical- Miracle,

With real substance, yet, somewhat satirical.

A wizard of words, stirring and stewing

Soothing rainbows while storm clouds are brewing.

A mid- winter rose or a cold desert rain,

Blending smile and tear, mixing promise with pain.

I Am . . .

The moon at noon, midnight sun, mismatched socks,

I'm the self- appointed Prince of Paradox.

To delight or disgust, for sneers or applause,

To mirror my world, to stand for a cause.

I please, I provoke, I keep their hearts pounding

But not until death are poets "Astounding!"
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© 1999 Todd-Michael St. Pierre Please respect the rights of the author and Passions in Poetry. If you would like to use this poem on your own web page, please contact the Author. Thank you.

3 Visitor Comments

Michelle
This is such a great poem! Im glad i had the chance to read it.
Purple
Very nice. Thankyou.
Melys
I like this poet's way of telling! I agree that we should appreciate something we have now more, than letting it go to know how meaningful it was.

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