I don't know how...

I Don’t Know How To Write Poetry

I. How Do I Start?

I think of boys that sing, an engagement ring,
Wooden crosses, wins and loses,
The way a stranger talks, presents themselves, and walks,
Warm blankets, tea, the wind, how to have and be a friend
All these inspirations are completely in vain
Because my paper still sits here, hauntingly white and plain
I just sigh and keep trying because I just know it-
You have to think a lot to become a proficient poet

II. My Story

It was Paris at night, the whole city full of light
I looked as good on the outside as I felt on the inside
A French man, let’s call him Pierre, noticed my long, curly hair
He begged to sing me a song, which, since he added verses, would be pretty long
He saw that I was somebody who would be a wonderful wife
It wasn’t him I wanted because there was somebody else in my life
That special boy ended up being all wrong
He broke it off then gave a ring and a promise to a girl he’d been seeing all along
It was all very sad, the way he made me feel, I cried a lot on the seat by my window seal
Thinking about balances- the give and take, His sorrowful passion all for our sake
That cross is a symbol of love, a map- how to get from here to above
Ups and downs are part of the plan, the race the saints at one point ran
We try to help each other, even a stranger on the street
You may not know them now, but they might be someone good to meet
My best friends walk up and say hello
And I remember that the prize is worth the woe