Sunday, May 08, 2005

What Poetry Is

We all know that some poetry may follow a certain rhyme scheme, meter, length, syllable count.
And others seem to flow free with little restriction.
Although, some poetry follows certain rules,
the idea of poetry could never be contained by such limitations.
Webster's dictionary says that poetry is: 1 a: metrical writing: Verse b: the reproductions of a poet: poems 2: writing that formulates a concentrated imaginative awareness of experience in language chosen and arranged to create a specific emotional response through meaning, sound and rhythm.
But it is so much more.
Poetry is the essence of life . . . and death, spun around in a ceaseless motion,
and it is still.
It is sadness in the eyes of beauty. It finds joy in the midst of despair.
or a soft as whisper.
It is in everything we do, everything we are.
Sure, we may get a degree, make some money, maybe even a lot of money,
but a life without poetry is a mere existence.
To touch every feeling that we are,
to embrace the idea that we are
not permanent, but that we can live in poetry, music, art and song.

Connecting with a person 100 years from now or 100 days from now, if a person reads and understands, sees that if this man can make it through life, well they can too, inspire someone to press on, wade through the muck and stench of it all, and smell the blossom of a new day.
It doesn't have to be romantic, oh, but it is.
It is the water and the air.
It's a picture of your mom or dad,
a picture of your husband, your wife, your children.
When we have nothing,
it is all that we have left.
And when we have succeeded
every monetary whim,
filled every sexual desire,
the aroma that hovers in the air . . . is poetry.
Poetry exists within the moment
or can linger on for days, years, lifetimes.
Poetry can save you
thousands on therapy.
It allows pain to breathe.
It may never eliminate darkness,
but it allows us to coexist with it,
to try on new eyes and to look again,
to view life from a different perspective that,
perhaps, we haven't thought of before.
It opens doors. It opens your mind, your soul.
It is tearing down the curtain,
gazing upon naked emotions.
Poetry is a bird high atop a great tree,
leaning forward with no hesitation
and taking glide into flight.
It is a reflection of a smile in the stream.
It is simple.
But it can extent to every particle in the stratosphere . . . and beyond.
It can be an ice-cream cone shared with a child . . . or alone.
It will help us find the person
we know we are and can be,
and make friends with the person
that we sometimes find it hard
to admit that we are.
It can be everyday.
Everyday can be as poetry.


Blogger Erin said...

Poetry can save you
thousands on therapy.


I'm SO glad you started a blog! I'm telling you, mine is the best thing I ever got - well, except for the kids - and on some days, that's debatable ;)

11:39 PM  
Blogger Sir James E. Watkins said...

Intellectualism at it’s finest: Blog, that's a funny word.

12:24 AM  
Blogger Sir James E. Watkins said...

its not it's.

12:27 AM  
Blogger Erin said...

can I add a link to yours from mine?

blog = weblog - shortened for folks who find the 'we' too difficult to pronounce :))

1:44 AM  
Blogger Sir James E. Watkins said...


9:46 AM  

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