First published poem

[the stranger]

I read all the others first
just to check they were
Poets, writing poems in
a poetical way. They
seemed to be, but what
did I know?

My words where there
on the page, but they
didn’t seem real, like
they couldn’t possibly
have be born from me.

But now I see; they have
my eyes, my dress-sense
my unrelenting belief
that I am a poet

Or pretend to be.

[jisbell00]

Hi TS,

I like the first stanza. The subsequent conceit is pleasant, though I am struck by dress sense so soon after their birth. Perhaps my ten fingers and ten toes?

Cheers,
John