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Yes, I’d be happy say that I am. 😊

Dropping in for a quick sip of hot mochachino at Go Dog Go Café, D of Inside the Mind of Davy D, asks us this all-time high question.

I remember having this conversation before (right, D?) and my opinion remains unchanged. I still believe that the title “poet” can be claimed as much as it can be bestowed. Those great poets that we look up to started off as beginners, writing and re-writing their hearts out, until their words made its mark. They were romantics and they were mad before they were labeled poets. Same goes for most of us here. I think it all boils down to the heart of of the person who claims to be one. So long as poetry plays a big part in our lives, so long as it runs in our bloodlines— regardless if it’s an excellent piece or a work in progress (I refuse to call them bad poems), infamous or not, published or simply etched on a crumpled paper— then by all means let’s call ourselves poets.

And since this originally was a post for WQW, here’s a quote I found from the 1989 movie, Dead Poets Society, which pinpoints the core of a poet’s heart. Passion.

We don’t read and write poetry because it’s cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for.

-John Keating, Dead Poets Society

So long as there is passion, this world will never run out of poets. Would you agree?

Have a lovely day, everyone. 💕

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