The emotions come,
They pulse through me,
Flowing from heart to paper,
Thought transforms to words,
The media doesn't matter,
It can't molest the method;
Passion pushes through perfectly,
Agony, angst, annoyance, adulation, all:
Phase like water into steam,
Dropping all dross.
Longing is not lost,
Nor lamentation, yea, all:
Equally egress as escaping egrets to words;
As a snapshot saves a picture,
So, poetry captures a moment of full Life,
Storing humanity, somehow,
In letters, held together,
With strategic spaces;
Painting into poetry:
A smile,
A love so deep,
A death-longing agony,
A life set ablaze by romance,
A loss so great words fail to hold in the pain.
Poetry is an art capable of circumspect life for those willing to listen.
