• I've given it thought,
    and now surely I know it...
    If I could have but one title,
    It would be The Poet.

    The Poet I'd be,
    a weaver of words.
    A conjurer of power,
    through nouns and through verbs.

    With nothing but speech,
    I'd send chills down your spine
    And I'd capture your heart
    with form and with rhyme.

    I would hold you close
    as tears poured from your eyes.
    And with nothing but talk,
    I would hush all your cries.

    I'd cause laughter and joy,
    And I'd do it through verse.
    I would have something to say,
    During the good times and worse.

    My words would flow quick,
    My tongue would be silver.
    My expressions would captivate
    Nothing rhymes with silver.

    That last line made you laugh,
    And that's just one thing I could cause.
    With poetic sentence,
    verbal beauty would slip through my jaws.

    In you, something would stir
    as I spoke with a flow.
    And as my poems would end,
    I would make sure you know.

    Know that when you speak of me,
    I want all who listen to know it...
    That when they meet me themselves,
    they'll know me as The Poet.