The Problem With Poetry

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The problem with poetry, or at least one of them
is that everyone has already decided they don’t like it
Before they’ve listened to a line
Before they’ve embraced a rhyme
They’ve decided they don’t like it.
Before they’ve read Billy Collins
(They’d rather listen to Phil)
Before they’ve read Charles Simic
(They do however like Charlie Brown)
They’ve decided they don’t like it.
Imagine if you will going to your first day of middle school,
with so much to offer, so much potential,
But everyone has already decided they don’t like you.
Because of what someone else has said
Because they heard you were boring
Because some of the time you match.
It’s not fair, is it?
Now you know how poetry feels.
But I think you’ll both overcome it.

What I Want To Be When I Grow Up

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I’m afraid I may have to decide what I want to be when I grow up.
I’ve always pictured myself a renaissance man,
a jack of all trades and much to my dismay, a master of none.
A writer of songs and hymns, a teller of stories and sometimes truths
I can play 1 to the 5, and 6 to the 4 in any key.
I can compete in any sport, at a mediocre level
I’m best at the things no one really cares about.
But I decided as much as I liked those things
That I’d rather spend my life loving my wife and raising our kids
I added two huge titles to my name but no more abilities.
So I lead worship, every once in a while.
I pray with my kids at bedtime, most days.
I sing songs that maybe you’ll hear, or maybe you won’t.
I write blogs that are supposed to be books, except on the days that I walk away.
Because I can’t find the words to say what I want to say,
which is more often than not.
I wonder if Peter Pan was actually good at anything.
He really just played all the time, except with Captain Hook
But pirates are fun too as long as you’re not in any real danger
And on his island, he was king of the world
Master of the feast, leader of the band, tamer of the beast
And the children he met, their lives were really changed, weren’t they?
Weren’t they? But who changed them?
The king or the leader, the tamer or the master?
The singer or the writer, the father or the pastor?
I’m afraid I may have to decide what I want to be when I grow up,
But I’m so afraid I’ll choose incorrectly.
So maybe I’ll just be…