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Jun 4, 2010

12) Defining Poetry

Bulging eyes, a wheezing chest
Eyes twitching without much rest,
"You don't like poetry?" I said to you
You nodded tersely, you claimed it true.

"Poetry's lame" I heard her say
It was her mantra for each new day
"Impossible" I countered her thoughts
Like giving value to a bunch of naughts.

"I'll tell you what poetry is" and I opened my arms
She asked me what I was showing her: the sky? the farms?
Nodding, I pointed to the pole star, the sheep, the stream
I pointed towards the land that lies before us like a dream.

The innocent bubbles of water, gurgling like children
The babble of it as it crosses over rocks and by the playpen.
The darkening shades of the electric sky
And the flutter of wings of brids as on the town they spy.

I run my finger across the coarse grains of sand
The thick blades of grass, the contrast of parched, cracked land.
I gesture at the smallness of fleshy dewdrops of the morning
The hues of ochre oranges and sun yellows as night is dawning.

She looks confused, swept by beauty for sure
But to her, the message behind this land does not lure.
She doesn't see the sadness in a dog's slanted, hazel eyes,
Nor the hurt swimming in the tears the dark sky cries.

The swaying happiness of long stalks of wheat
The horrid chunk of many knives slicing through meat
The ebb and flow of the tide, a message, a symphony
The masquerade of life, the spectrum, raisn of melancholy.

Don't you see it? Don't you feel the rush of wind?
The cool breath of it in your hair, your gasps are pinned;
Don't you envy the listlessness of leaves?
Or how night darkens the jutting eaves?

She shakes her head. Now I feel angered by her.
She doesn't know the beauty of the smoothness of fur,
The uneasy trickles of time, ticking slowly by,
The rust on the rails as trains pass,
The movement of the planet and its many entities,
The constant sound of noise, the feel of life, the taste of wetness
The sight of energy and the smell of roses.

I am sad that you don't see through these masks
I am sad you don't see life pass on by
I am sad that you don't realize the world moves constantly
As if it is keeping itself from saying goodbye.


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