My Life as a Poet

January 30, 2014
I am an aspiring poet. I may not become a poetic legend such as Maya Angelou or E.E. Cummins, or an inspiration towards poetic fledglings such as myself, but I would like to be something.

The idea of me becoming a poet came to me when I was pondering what type of talent I had, which I realized was none, really. My life seemed so simple on a daily basis. Wake up, go to school, do homework, sleep. Wake up… etcetera, etcetera. I was just bored out of my mind.
There was this other idea that inspired me becoming a poet. I felt like my eyes were just closed all this time and I needed to open them and look right through the surface, not just at it. I explored, played with my mind a little, and bam! A poem was born. I also started to, believe it or not, read the dictionary and realized there were many heartfelt words out there that could be used instead of simple words with the same meaning. Seriously. What good was the word “bad” when you can use “iniquitous”!

Becoming a poet has made me realize how exotic and spontaneous life can be, and not just dull as it was portrayed for me. I look at my friends at times and wonder how they can accept the lives that they’re in. Their smartphones have them on a leash and drag them into a dull world. They don’t even realize it and it saddens me. Not just them, in fact, the whole human race is just driven into technology, but not in the simplicity of life. I know this may sound stupid to you and philosophical or naïve, even. But I can’t help but express my sincere opinions. And it’s not like I’m a down to earth person, either. I watch T.V., and I feel like smartphones made people’s lives easier. But I just don’t like the fact that people can be phone addicts. I remember once telling one of my friends to read a specific book I recommended for her because it was so good. I’ve realized the mistake I’ve made. She told me that she hates reading books and said, and I quote, “With one hand I can count how many novels I fully read throughout my life.” This shocked me and also caused anger to bubble up inside of me because with those final words, I realized my friends would never appreciate poetry or the power of words the way I do and they’ll ever break out of their hollow bubble to appreciate new things without relying on media (such as keeping up with reality T.V. or worrying how many followers they get on Instagram). But I guess they can’t see that bubble or ever try to burst it, that I know.

And it’s not like I don’t want a smartphone or live the free lives my friends have, I do. But I guess if I did, I wouldn’t be infatuated with poetry and I’ll be another robot in society that can’t live without social networking sites. So, turning to poetry, the past few weeks have been a splendid blur, with poems rushing through my head that I just have to write down before it’s left forgotten. I sometimes even forget I have homework and responsibilities. But oh well, living the life of a poet is an adventure that’s worth it.

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