The Poet that Wasn't!

After many years and innumerable attempts that continue till date I still haven't been able to understand what it takes to be a poet.Is it the sweet rhyme , the words that toy with your mind or simply the deeper meaning ?
The 'English Poet' has always been a source of great intrigue for me. I have searched far and wide and still my questions remain unanswered. For my part I have even scouted for texts that say 'What makes a true poet?' or the 'The Beginner's Guide to Becoming a Poet' but all such efforts have only ended in vain.
My earliest attempts had always been at getting words to rhyme .I was pretty successful till it dawned on me (courtesy : the English teachers) that poems are not a mere play of words.There is a deeper meaning. So , as I was into experimenting ,I tried my hand at this too but with miserable results .Poems that did not rhyme or were innocent of the sing-song approach did not hold any interest for me.My reading practices were restricted to entertainment .I did not seek philosophical insight into worldly matters nor did I look for inspiration (but this is another matter that I shall take up later). I for one was (to be read as am) a self proclaimed 'Experimental writer' as I only loved (and still do) to play with words- no meaning ,no philosophy just plain entertainment.(I know someone will oppose this! but 'someone' I do not include those writings as among my experiments)
 Now years have passed since I last wrote a poem (read as completed a poem) and here I shall share one of my efforts childhood efforts made back in 2005. These were written during 'prep' time back in Sherwood .Now , do not mistake me to be of the lazy kind , I know prep times means study but try studying after stuffing yourself with 4 hostel-grade chapatis.So here it is :

A KNIGHT'S TALE

(A poem by Anurag Arya ,VIII-B )

I was a knight from the town of Dover

Serving a Count with my horse named Rover

The daring deeds I have done outnumber the men

In the army of the Emperor by hundred times ten

When I was young ten years before

My parents had wanted me to be a writer of lore

My father was a farmer and my mother a housewife

And they valued me more than they valued their life

With the help of my brother,I persuaded them to let me go

And be a knight to fight many a foe

My mother wept and my father stood still

My mother's tears a cauldron could fill

So on the eve of a winter day

For the last time I bundled hay

At night I took my parents leave and set out

Into the unknown world I rode with many a doubt

On the third day of my journey I stood

Before Dover's walls wearing a hood

I rode directly to the Count's great manor

Which bore on its walls , a figure of an anvil and a hammer

The Count took me into his service at once

I was sent to a nunnery to protect the nuns

For a war was in progress at that time

In the country along the coastal line

Within three months I was at the battle front

Leading troops,with them the enemies I would hunt

I did not spare the young or the old

Seeing me the enemies' blood with fear turned cold

Winning honours I was soon knighted in the County

I was the hero of the day and I received a lot of bounty

Everyone present toasted in my name

My parents were there and I earned a lot of fame

During the banquet seated with the old

I saw a beautiful lady dressed in gold

I vowed that very moment on my life

 To marry her and make her my wife

She was the Count's niece I was told

 I walked straight up to her I had to be bold

Kneeling before her for marriage I proposed

She agreed and from the crowd a cheer arose

A month after this when no axe hacked

I was informed that the French had attacked

Leading an army of thirty-three score

I slaughtered the enemy,their coats of mail I tore

I bloodied my sword a thousand times

During the battle , the Battle of Limes

As it was fought on the outskirts of Limetown

Whose people served my country's crown

I lost an arm and an eye

But I did not for once cry

As I knew I could no more

Fight a battle , so I started writing lore

Now that I lie on my deathbed , my friend

I have remembered my good days till the end

When my eyes shut as I die

Please, I beg thee, do not cry

 

This is the last poem that I ever completed. Every attempt since then has been in vain (certain writings not included for consideration) .If you ever decide to pen my life (well I know that is a big ask!) be certain to include a chapter 'The Poet that Wasn't"!