There are poets, the innate ones
For them words flow effortlessly
Then there are poets, the contenders
For they search words seamlessly

I posited a natural flair for poetry
Sadly, a little overrated self image
For the ones with inherent artistry
Verses are their ultimate salvage

Days roll by in pursuit of a thought
When I fix on one; the lexical dilemmas
Sorting through it, the essence is lost
A mishmash of colons and commas

So, dear readers when I put pen to paper
Do remember, I ain’t the innate poet
My works are that of a worthy contender
And I hope these lines really validate it!