Musings on Poetry
Language is a bunch of words
walking around in their birthday suit.
Poetry dresses them up with costume, make up,
color and the appropriate accessories for the
occasion which they attend.
Language is a bunch of words, better at making noise
than actually saying anything.
Poetry subtracts the words responsible for all the noise.
Language is a bunch of words looking to impress a paragraph. Poetry is the paragraph, impressed into a word.
Language is a word trying to explain a feeling. Poetry is a feeling revealed within the word
Language is a bunch of words trying to illuminate a picture. Poetry is the picture illuminating the words.
Language is a bunch of words looking for a house to live in. Poetry is a home looking for a word, worthy of residence.
Language is a bunch of words trying to dance to music that isn't playing. Poetry is the music that teaches the words to dance.
Language is a bunch of words used to make conversation between consenting faces. Poetry is the silent conversation spoken to the heart.
Language is a bunch of words from a squawking parrot wanting to be heard. Poetry is a butterfly wanting to be held.
In the end, poetry is never really defined. It is a dance between the writer and the reader. The music plays and in the hearing the dance begins and poetry is born. Sometimes, there is nothing makes you feel so alive than to hold a butterfly and know, that when it leaves, something of it, forever stays. So it is with poetry.
Although "Webster" may define poetry in more sterile terms, I prefer the terms I've come to know in hub pages. They are gleaned from a harvest of gifted poets, who share their work here. My frequent reading of their work has led to my unusual musings regarding poetry. If your curiosity inclines you to examples of my musings, you may read from,
Nellieanna H hay