What Poetry Is

21 Jun


by Rhiannon Hall – (c) 2017

You can ask what poetry is
But brace yourself,
The answer is probably along the lines of
“I don’t know”
And if anyone tells you a solid answer
You can throw that solid thing back at them

The truth is

Poetry is truth
But not a truth that always makes sense
Not a truth that can be paraded around
As information

Poetry is
And creation
And wonder

You can write words
In short and random

Or pleased to keep time
And a measure of rhyme
You can alter the rules
Or fall strictly in line

But even these
Do not carry a guarantee
That the finished product
Is anything at all
It feels like poetry

Can you feel the brushstrokes
Of the words and the spaces
As a picture is painted
Around you?

Can you savour the flavour
Of metaphor
As it drips across your tongue
And melts into sticky pools
In your soul?

Do you cringe at the harshly lit
When it denies you
The freedom of turning your glance
From seeing yourself in its open wounds?

Poetry is a lace curtain
Blowing in the breeze
That never fully blocks out your reality
Of light and darkness
But gauzes overlaid
And flutters the vision
Between your world and mine
And your world
And mine
Are the same and never the same
And the tatted threads
Draw lines around those aspects
And give us insights
That bind our hearts with open-weaved strands
That forever tint our landscape views
In beautifully painful honesty

And somewhere amid all the substance
And lack thereof
You’ll find what poetry is…

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Posted by on 21 June 2017 in Poetry


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