Friday, August 2, 2013


This poem was written as an entry for a scholarship, where the prompt was essentially "Write a poem about why you write poetry". Since writing poetry about poetry is my specialty, I gave it a go. Unfortunately, the winner is to be selected randomly, so my superior skill and willingness to rhyme will not be a factor.

Wherefore do I write poetry, you ask?
I am afraid my answer won't be clear.
But nonetheless I must attempt this task.
I guess I write my poems out of fear.

I fear I'm doing nothing with my time.
I fear that all my life will be for naught.
To waste a life is surely quite a crime
And so I make the best of what I've got.

My poetry stands testament to time
That I have spent creating something great.
With each alliteration, foot, and rhyme,
My art emerges, beautiful, ornate

Of my own reasons, I am not quite sure

Perhaps that's part of poetry's allure.

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