What is Poetry?

It’s when an arm and a leg come off,
and squirt all over the page.

It’s when your heart could not be contained
within your chest, so it leapt out on to the paper,
and danced a jig.

It’s when the sorrow overtook you
and turned the tears into a watercolour
of words, inked into permanence.

It’s when an elephant stomped its tracks
through your brain, and the noise
echoed through your fingertips
in mini-stomps over a keyboard.

It’s the after-image
of a thought that got away
from a tight leash
unmuzzled.

It’s the wild frothy waves
ever reaching for the shore
of understanding
Sometimes close,
Sometimes far away.

It’s the shake-everything-up
storm outside, that barrages
the emotions and hurls tears
pummelling at the windows
as we cower inside
waiting for the rage
to subside.

It’s the old man whispering
words of wisdom with
last breath.
Dying softly
at the end of each phrase.

It’s the young girl dreaming
(sorrows tucked into a sleeve)
sunshine trickling from tears
unshed.

It’s the boy dancing in the trees
with stars overhead
singing for the pure joy in his heart.
And the same man, bowed in pain
as he glances up at a streetlight
as he limps through thick fog.

Poetry is a voice
in the dark.
==== ♥====

This was fun. What is poetry to you?

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