A Look At Poetry, The Melody of the Heart
Mark Twain resonates these immortal words:
"Two most important days in life:
The Day you were born and the day you find out why."
Lofty; profound … they speak of Poetry -
An unspoken moment in between Art,
With myriad volumes of expressions,
Journeying through the ether;
Touching the very Soul of varying forms of life.
Truly G Nelson was correct when he said:
“If there is one thing I have learned about writing poems,
It is that they are never done.
Years pass, they sit unfinished, like children,
I always want to help them.”
Poetry is an outpouring of the Soul to the Cosmos...
The Light of the horizon, riding over the waves of Zion.
The poet is a Lover, creating that which is unseen,
Purely for the joy of the Self.
Perhaps the sweet poetess, Nellieanna H. Hay,
Had this in mind, when she said:
“Poetry lightens the heavy load of a heart too full of love,
But there are better ways, I'm told, awaiting better days.” ©
Poetry is the aesthetic beauty, of the graffiti on painted walls;
The immaculate art of Monet;
The howling tornadoes of the night.
Poetry is the raindrops, tap-dancing on my window,
And the flowing river of the Soul.
A Heart of gold cascades its Delight,
Into the radiance of creative Light.
“Poetry is the oxygen of the Soul.” Says Romeos Quill.
Poetry paints a symphony in the artistry of Picasso;
Resonates in the gleaming smile of Da Vinci’s Mona,
While the Universe sings with majesty,
To the glory of its own cadences.
“Poetry is a quiver on the skin of eternity.” Says Lawrence Ferlenghetti
"I sometimes find it difficult to convey, what I truly feel when writing poetry. The words are all there, like children on the top of a waterslide, pushing and shoving, barely being able to slide down the slope of ink, splashing into the pool of ideas, and then dried off by towels of paper that get read on nights like these. But it’s the security guard on top of the slope, who gets to pick what words get to slide down."- Artin Selimi
Three brilliant poets
Poetry stirs in the applause at Poetry Café,
Filling the evening, with the energy of approval.
Poetry is the Compere sweetening the ambience,
By adding spice, zest, vibrancy …
To heighten the momentum of gleeful hearts:
“Wallace Stevens was a racist jerk, says Niall O’Sullivan.
I love his poetry. I’m glad he’s dead.”
Poetry flies a kite, into the rhythms of Universal Spirit,
Murmuring joyfully in the Silence.
“Poetry is an act of peace.” Says Pablo Neruda.
“Peace goes into the making of a poet,
As flour goes into the making of bread.”
Poetry is our Light in the darkness,
Enabling us to see the rainbows;
Sow kernels of celestial beauty,
On the blank canvas of the Heart.
Carl Sandberg’s take, is that
“Poetry is an echo, asking a shadow to dance.”
While Seamus Heaney says:
“A poem should take you somewhere different....
A poet should be the one least likely,
To step into the same river twice.”
All the interwoven fabrics of life, flows, like poetry in motion.
Perhaps Emily Dickenson had this in mind:
“If I read a book and it makes my whole body so cold,
no fire can ever warm me, she says, I know that is poetry!
If I feel physically, as if the top of my head were taken off,
I know that is poetry.”
The poet presents a meticulous design;
Embellishes in such a way that the emotions stir,
While the Heart takes delight in psychic tears:
Listen to this beautiful piece by the poet Niall O’Sullivan:
“Sully is a traitor to his gender,
stuck indoors with his two young daughters,
while his wife’s in town to bring home the bacon.”
God wanted to write a tablet of calligraphy on our Souls,
And so He ascended in the flowing graces of
Shakespeare, Whitman, Wordsworth,
Keats, Frost and many more …
Listen to this masterfully crated piece by O’Sullivan:
“Bowie’s passing doused the dawn in piss.
Sully blubbed alone in the bathroom,
The plants unwatered. Irony? F….off.
The awesome poetess Surabhi Kaura, has this to say:
“Poetry is the tongue of the unspoken.
It's a scarlet music of unlimited emotions
Running amok in the pursuit of soulful splendour...
Poetry is an oxygen to me. It is a drop of water that I yearn for,
When I'm lost in the scorching desert of thoughts.”
Yea! Lord. ‘Though I sometimes walk in the valley of the shadow of loneliness,
Thy Sonatas’ of Love shall bring me a quantum of solace,
And I will dwell in the Delight of Your Bards … forever.
-Manatita, The Flame-Weaver. 9th February, 2016. ©Copyrighted.
~ Awakening The Inner Flame ~
Acknowledgements: Seven of the thirteen quotations here, were taken from the Hub ‘Define Poetry in Your Own Words,’ courtesy of Andrey Spacey (Chef-de-jour). My Dear. Dearer, Dearest Friends Nellieanna and Surabhi, gave me the rest.
This is probably the 10th poem that I have written on Poetry and words themselves. There are also two of my prose works, with similar expositions. –Manatita
A Song For my Beloved by Manatita
My favourite Poet is the visionary luminary Sri Chinmoy, followed by Rumi. Who is Your Favourite?See results without voting
Manatita reciting poetry
© 2016 manatita44
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