Name a great poet.
You have a very wide choice,
But one name will do.
Was there a time when
That poet couldn’t walk or talk,
But then, wow! he could?
And was there a time
When that poet couldn’t write?
But then, yes! he could?
He learnt how to make
Words appear in front of him
Which others could read!
But was he a great
Poet yet? No, of course not.
No-one is born great.
He had to learn, and
There were only three ways that
He could do that, yes?
He had to look at
The world around him, work out
What he thought of it;
Read other poets,
Enjoy their work, let them share
Their visions with him;
Then he had to try
And write what he thought, find the
Words that worked the best.
That is when he learnt
That he would be a poet:
His writing mattered.
He loved to watch the
Words appear, to see his thoughts
Shine out of the page.
And so he kept on
Writing, not caring what the
Rest of the world thought.
Until one day, he
Knew he had something which he
Knew was worth sharing.
It might be his mother
Or his brother, or some-one else
Who first read his work,
And they saw in it
Something that they could value,
Told him to keep on.
And so he kept on
Until his words sang out his
Life throughout the world.
But he always knew,
However the world judged him,
He would never stop.
That is how poets
Discover their own voices,
Create their own lives.
So, name such a poet.
You have an infinite choice,
But one name will do.
Richard A. Snell 