Poets, have you ever felt that you were 'different'?

Robert Service, who wrote the classic "Cremation of Sam Magee", has been quoted as saying, "Homer was a poet, Dante was a poet, I am not a poet, but a versifier". I realize that he was correct. Writing verse and poetry can be different things. As a versifier or poet, I feel that I am different from most people, becaause I tend to view things a bit differently.

You have been given a wonderful gift which you should be thankful for. If that sets you slightly apart from the common man, so be it. The gift you have is so powerful you should be able to relate to everyone in written word although you may feel like an alien at times in their presence. I would imagine Einstein and others like him felt the same. Wear your crown with pride not in disgrace. Poets are an eccentric lot. When I tell people I write poetry, it's wonderful just looking at the expression on their faces. I bet they consider that I'm totally nuts and wasting a lot of valuable time on scribbling crap.

I vaguely remember the day that this thought came to me:

I am different completely...

nothing like the other girls who cheered on the team,

not like the other gymnasts who balanced on the same beam,

not like my dearest friends, playing D&D and programming machines-

no I was outside looking in, no matter what the scene.

In my first school years my differences were splendid!

Every lost and lonely kid I met was soon befriended-

I could make a kind of magic where every broken dream was mended.

When adolescent cruelties lashed out swiftly and it ended.

I formed alliances with misfits, outcasts and the abused,

all of us were tragically lighting up each others' fuse;

I played for 20 years in a game I knew I would lose,

Cursed with all of this insight that I did not know how to use.

So I was used instead, falling into a series of traps,

wretched with unrequited thirst for thinking caps.

My mind-expanding trips were as I knew then, perhaps

but a constant struggle to keep from psyche collapse.

If I could do it over my friend, I know that I would succeed;

if i had a chance again- oh! For this I bleed!

Scars upon my wrists from decades past are marks of my creed;

So very separated from the two-year-old who loved to read.

She is there inside of me with her ruined chance,

Yearning desperately to learn every step of the dance,

to be taken backwards through time and circumstance...

to be admired by those who call my soul's outpourings 'pants'.

I suppose that I could still fake it and pretend to be coming along-

but you and I both know that would be deceptive and therefore wrong.

An honest man once told me that I have to write my own song;

that man I know should realize that his influence is very sweet and strong.

I know this is more of the aforementioned 'outpourings' than it is poetry; however, the feelings that it brought back to life while writing will make it very dear to me always. Thank you for inspiring it.

It's a fact. We are an eccentric lot, though I prefer to call myself a rhymer, a story-teller or a poette, but I'm mad as a hatter to some. (These same ones have come to me many times to help them write a bit of something, though.) It is not a crown of 'disgrace' ; it is a crown of glory. See your abilities as gifts, because that is what they are. I used to feel a bit alien, but I think we're the Natives, and it's the rest of them what be the aliens. lol (Also, we need the solitude to do all that deep thinking, so don't despise the solitude entirely. And you've got me and all the rest of your friends and fans, and that's a lot of company.)

Oh, Ian, you're priceless. Have a cuppa tea and stop that frowning; it'll leave a permanent furrow t'wixt your brows.

Strange that you address your recent questions to "poets", when very few of your respondents actually qualify for the title. Anyway, you imply that "Earth is not your place" - are you saying you're a Martian?

I thank heavens for the gifts

I have been given.

The insight and sensitivity

which differs from

the majority.

We are awakened in our souls,

in ways others have yet to be.

I don't usually like iambic pentameter, but this wasn't bad.

Have you considered becoming an escapist? Maybe try astral projection or meditation.

I know right? Have you heard of "indigo children" though? Think of all the pain you can validate and console with your words. It's powerful stuff.

kinda deep. nice