Poetry Is...

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When I was young I used to think.

That girls were blue and boys were pink.

That imagination ruled but what it seems.

Is that I was stupid and dreamed a dream.

So I wrote down my feelings that were wrong.

I sealed away my emotions in a song.

But then melodies became too sweet.

So I just spoke to my paper like a rapper to a beat. 

I spoke of lions that thought they were King.

Who lived to rule and take everything

Though you fought so hard to build,

In this jungle you must yield.

I spoke of tigers who ripped me apart.

Not taking into account that which encompassed my heart

But only what they could see,

They didn't like it so it was over for me.

I spoke of bears that sat in my way.

Stubborn, immovable, but eager to stay

Wanted to play by their rules,

And targeted challengers or should I say fools.

My words weren't all bad.

They were moreso witty, angsty, angry, with a hint of sad.

But what they brought was joy.

Out of hatred and disdain there was something beautifully coy.

A peace that came over me.

Left by my poetry.

A poetry that heals...

A poetry that feels...

A poetry shield. 

A poetry that lives...

A poetry that gives...

A poetry that is. 

 

Comments

ehollingsworth

I thought that was really nice, and I thought you really expressed your self. :)

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