A poet is a thought Maybe two or three Sitting inside a person Whoever that may be A poet needs a dream Hopefully a conscience But even more to deem Every stray thought necessary They should handle every thought But they may stray a tinge chaotic Watch the world closely, they ought An eagle eye and mouse ear A kind life they live, But fancy no kind of riches Because they should all know A poet doesn’t get high pay, no matter what itches Whether they have dreamt into fantasy Grasping for the unknown, Or they reach for the stars Brought as well the moon, not the stars alone. No matter what I say, though I may be a rambling lunatic Just talking all my days away Though it makes me rather sick Anyone can be a poet, But not everyone can be good.
