Pleasure in Poetry I

3

Art by AF-studios (http://www.deviantart.com/art/Fire-Within-Me-155600530)

What is poetry?
Poetry is the silence
Burning with all-time
History echoing in the

Shadows asking them to dance
Poetry is the first memory
Of language, when women and men
First began to distil symbols

Using words to fill emotions
With light, but we forget about the light
A poem begins as a spark
In the brain, a neurotransmitter

Of homesickness for something divine
For a present with beauty
Poetry is the least imposition
On silence in a world of chatter

Where information is censored
And the truth is not to be found
What is poetry?
It’s that which drives my soul

In a precise thing like mathematics
To reach beyond language for the stars
With audiences that were literate
Asking words to become butterflies

From the usual caterpillars
Anyone could be a poet
Poetry are thoughts that breathe
And burn in our minds until

They hit the page softly
Uniting pleasure with truth.

6 thoughts on “Pleasure in Poetry I

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