I to Him

Could I call myself a poet if I versified?
Could I call myself a poet if I simply rhymed?
Could I call myself a poet if I used old words?
Could I call myself a poet if my thoughts were birds?
Could I call myself a poet if you called me so?
Could I call myself a poet if I had some foe?
Could I call myself a poet if I deftly paused?
Could I call myself a poet if mayhems I caused?
Could I call myself a poet if I were old school?
Could I call myself a poet if I made you drool?
Could I call myself a poet, my sane and dear bard?
Could I call myself a poet if I were a card?

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He to Me

You are not a poet if you know just to rhyme;
You are not a poet if you don’t know to chime.
You are not a poet if you just use dead words;
You are not a poet if you can’t deal with girds.
You are not a poet if those nerds call you so; 
You are not a poet if you ween your words flow.
But let me tell you what I feel ’bout you, my mate.
If I call you a poet, trust me, that’s sure your fate.
And you’re a poet, have no second thoughts about this.
for your writings make me dance, sing, smile, gaily kiss.
But if you trow you’re not a poet, you can’t one be.
You may make peeps smile, but your worth you won’t see.

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