Poetry
This is a poem about poetry. Basically, I think that poetry isn't confined to the written or spoken word. It's not merely the words on the page or the rap at a poetry slam. It's something more.
Poetry is the sound of cricket calls
Or the sound of echoes bouncing off walls.
It is in the breeze of a warm summer day
And in the faces of people you meet on your way.
Poetry is the romance and freshness of youth
And the golden splendor of sacred Truth.
It is in the sparkle of the moon and the stars
And sometimes even in prison bars.
Poetry is the common man's voice
And beauty, elegance, grace and poise.
Beauty is order and liberty,
And all of these things are, yes, poetry.
Poetry is air and water and wood
And the world ordered as God says it should;
Please look beyond your Shakespeare book:
Poetry is everywhere, if you care to look.
Or the sound of echoes bouncing off walls.
It is in the breeze of a warm summer day
And in the faces of people you meet on your way.
Poetry is the romance and freshness of youth
And the golden splendor of sacred Truth.
It is in the sparkle of the moon and the stars
And sometimes even in prison bars.
Poetry is the common man's voice
And beauty, elegance, grace and poise.
Beauty is order and liberty,
And all of these things are, yes, poetry.
Poetry is air and water and wood
And the world ordered as God says it should;
Please look beyond your Shakespeare book:
Poetry is everywhere, if you care to look.
Post Comment
