A Poem of Poems

They say a poem is the way the heart sings.

They tell of songs sung with sweet words.

They preach of love divine, and hero’s valor.

Yet, as they bring the poems for all to see and hear, it is chained and bounded.

They claim it is for appeal, but as you listen to its words, they are dull and lifeless.

When one’s heart rises to oppose, it is shunned and disgraced by them.

No matter their efforts, they cannot truly contain the essence of poetry.

The essence of one’s heart.

The heart is without shape or form, without chains or binds, nor gags, nor twisted words.

It is the truth, and none can conceal it.

None can alter it.

None, but the heart itself.

Poetry is the way the heart sings, using sweet words to preach of love’s mythical strength, the heart’s true existence.

Magnificence pours from their chambers when unleashed, beauty and excellence ringing through the air.

The lion is not judged by the method of his roar, but the pride he carries with it.

Comments & reviews · 3
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annabanana
Comment

Very true, And Very deep! Your poem was very well written, keep up the writing.

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Lady Sydney
Review

That was amazing. Truly. I know absolutely squat about poetry, so I don't think I can give you a proper critique. The two poems that you saw written by me were just me fooling around. There were no guidelines that I was following; I literally wrote those off the top of my head.

But, even so, I don't think I really need to be a poet in order for me to say that this was very well done. It describes what poetry actually is and how it's created. The point that you were trying to make was pretty much clear to me... so, nice job, Gil!

Hope to read more from you.

xxSydneyxx



To be absolutely certain about something, one must know everything or nothing about it.
— Olin Miller