What if poetry was a person?
Personified with the gleem in their eye?
Would it be a man or a woman?
Would he be bulky and buff, or tall and lanky?
Would she wear glasses and use the tips of her fingers to push them up?
Or would Poetry just be simply hard to describe?
If there was just one answer I'm sure we would be all wrong. Because Poetry at it's best simply shocks us all.
Poetry leaves us speechless and causes a scene when they enter the bar.
Everyone turns their end and listens to when that have to say.
Poetry is captivating, in every single way.
They are a rebel with a cause and loves to disobey.

You see I picture Poetry to be
Kind of lanky  and maybe a bit stocky,
with curly wispy hair that can never be tamed.
Their eyes would be brown with glint that tells you they're cocky.

He would stand tall with shoulders square,
spitting lines of musicality
that simply slice the air.
Always surprising.

Poetry would play a wicked bass,
to prove they can keep tempo.
Loving the race
of plucking of each strum.

Poetry would be charming
and have wicked temper,
but never appraising harming.
And maybe a bit guarded.

You see, this is who my Poetry is,
I meet with them quite often.
He listens to mine and I listen to his.
I love Poetry quite a bit.