Poetry: What Literature Feels Like
Feet atop supreme mountains
Diffused stars a spectacular curtain
Those heavenly cursors
To another point of self-retreat
Gazing into infinite darkness
Devoid of dreariness and eeriness
The lingering silence assures
A quiet seat
No eyes read your story
In your riddle of self-discovery
The key you hold to your heart’s inside
This is what literature feels like
The delicate breeze whispers
Into your ears its fervor
It beckons
Spread your wings and fly
You never reckoned
How freely you indeed can soar
Nothing’s a bore
It’s discovery and more
No frontier, no threshold
You’ll ever find
Nothing can you not behold
Oh, this is the privilege of the erudite
This is what literature feels like
It’s a complicated piece
Yet it’s easy to achieve
Comprehension
If you let it own your heart
With no pretension
Embracing the odds
Leaving the roll to the gods
Like a child
Pushing boldly
Weaving though the Nile
Oh, my mind and my body
They’re separate entities
Like day is to night
This is what literature feels like
You are the speaker of the words
Though them life you did not give
But now at liberty to drift
On its timeless essence
Stealing like a bereft peasant
Sailing further from or deeper into
Naïveté, nodding to sensibilities
Tossing your head to wit and humor
Shedding tears with the damsel
Who, of you, was her reprisal
The amenity of the inconceivable
Your soul uncontrollably devours
Nourishment for both will and might
This is what literature feels like
A closure that does not close
For mind and heart creates another dose
Subtle at times
Basking in the hazy sunshiny road
Lethal when expectations do not rhyme
Something in the making
Conscience struggling and aching
Practicality somewhat missing
Truth and wisdom aside
To crown the noble knight
With a conclusion
Writhe without foundation
What a tear for a futile sight
This is what literature feels like
Oh, what a voyage it can be
Being pilgrim of unduplicable identity
Footprints irreplaceable in thee
All pursuits incline to the hour
Your elements placidly acquiesce
To be devoured by the feast
Emotions and sentiments du jour
Everything inessential but the soul
Then I resume my rationale
On account of existing scholarly
To do service to my merit
And radiate from my rightful seat
Amongst the clerisy
Indispensable for a life inscribed
This is what literature IS like
May 2013
© 2013 Carmen Beth