The standard definition of a poet is one who writes poetry. Could it be more vague? 1. a maker of verses. 2. one (such as a creative artist) of great imaginative and expressive capabilities and special sensitivity to the medium. I don't know; that’s vague. There are too many variables in the equation to specifically define one who writes poetry. This isn’t math or brain surgery. 1 + 1 = 3, who knows? It could be a bunch of 1s and 0s in a matrix of pixels behind the plastic LED computer screen, or a crock.
I don’t know. I’m no expert in this area, defining what a poet is or what poetry means. Like art, it’s best left to the artist to decide whether it’s worth the opinion of, but I never knew exactly what art is; only that I know what I like. The same rationale applies for poetry and poets. It’s music to the ear and heart of the poet. Language is the power of written and spoken words. It’s what they hear/see and endlessly dream. Always thinking about how they choose to approach the subject and how they feel emotionally expressing it.
Throughout my life as a poet, I never felt accepted by anyone, especially other poets. I had my local crew of colleagues and supporters, but the detractors far outnumbered us. They still do. Not all poets are sweetly embraced by the mainstream. Beware poetry lovers out there in poetry land. Literary history will show that poets were always the lowest of the breed, holding the ladder of culture for the rest to climb.
A born poet or one slowly cultivated over the years can yield the same results. It’s a matter of personal taste. You either like it, love it, or not. I never met a poet who didn’t love to warble before crowds. Nobody cares that much whether it rhymes or not. It’s not a halfway endeavor. It’s all in or nada for your troubles to the long haul.
There are very few successful poets, too many fall through the pages, living quiet lives of desperation and despair. I can attest to this fact. I’ve been rejected so many times I can’t recall them all. Plus, I never made a living from being a poet, like artists from every walk, but this was never the motivation. It’s a lifestyle that teeters on the edge of poverty, denial, and refusal. If you think poetry is a good job then you’re in the wrong business. Poetry rhymes well with poverty.
Poets can be petty like anyone else, but they never wish to be unheard or silently invisible. It’s a precarious lifestyle of rejection. There’s a bittersweet loneliness in the belly of every creature who actively creates something from nothing. Like butterflies in your gut, before a show starts with unfounded fears, worries mix and mingle with dreams melted into the solitude of aloneness. A certain contemplation precedes long spells of complacency. Apathy’s inertia has a greater effect upon the soul than other negative spirits. Cultural society has no place for poets in their own artistic circles.
The variety and types of poetry are just as different as there are kinds of poets. No one has ever said, I think I will be a poet. Someone recently stated, poetry is the science of reality, or some such nonsense. Nobody can say what it means or says about being a poet, any more than they can describe you as a human. Nobody has the right to judge another person based on anything at all except to speak up for yourself. Even the eyes and ears can be fooled into thinking that poetry can save the world. It’s an idiot’s game to think mere words can make a difference. I don’t think that your love sonnets can make a person feel like loving someone, or a haiku may enlighten you to feed the poor, feed the birds, or feed your head, heart, and soul.
What poets can do is make you think and feel. Poetry has the power to be a force in the world. Yet, it can’t change anything but your own thought patterns. When people ask, what do you do? You tell them you’re a poet. Their eyes glaze over blank, and they stare off into space. Then they say yes, but what do you do? Like being a poet is not valid or worthy of their scrutiny. Don’t discount the importance of poets. They exist because they have a common purpose that transcends reality. The intangible nature of truth and the value that words conveyed give meaning to an often sad, lonely, meaningless existence. Look out! Forever at odds with morality, status quo, politics, religion and most of all themselves. Poets shall reign supreme.