You may have encountered, over the past two seasons, our exploration on poetry and poets. We’ve stuffed poetry writing prompts in envelopes and stashed them around the hall. We’ve created mini-poetry books. We’ve held poetry slams and instituted an on-the-spot poetry bureau.

We have typewriters scattered about our offices and  notepads with the prompt “Who is the Poet in Your Life?”

It’s been interesting to witness the ways in which people encounter these moments of poetic thought. It’s been gratifying to witness how many times it has inspired a poetic impulse.

We found the following poem on a table in our Royce Hall Pop-Up Library the other day. We’re not sure who wrote it or when. But, we love it. And we thank you, whoever you are for sharing it.

me

by “kj”

Half of my life is spent rolling my eyes

at dumb things I do or

have done

I am rolling my eyes right

this second

Who am I to act like a poet

To pretend like I am not inadequate

To talk myself up so I don’t feel the disappointment

that creeps into my veins without warning

These same veins that once flowed with the

hot blood of want

now stiff with doubt

Am I really doing all I can to succeed

Who am I to preach when I am guilty

I am a hypocrite of the worst kind

The one with the false pride

The one who attends church every Sunday

Yet cannot recall the last time I had a prayerful thought

Is this what it means to be humble?

When I am still faking sick to stay home from school at 20 years old,

Is it fake when my stomach turns at the words

“mature adult”

Don’t look at me

But please–look at me

A fine specimen of the genuine wannabe

I want to be so many things

But especially

A contradiction

I want to be worhty

of God’s attention

I want to be honest

But until then

I will remain in this perpetual state of

eye-rolling

An actor, but never a poet