Where the writer is free, The poet is trapped

Where the writer is free

The poet is trapped,

Stuck within emotion,

As if being wrapped

In what he wishes

He could escape,

A tall, dark, evil,

Locked, metal gate,

With vines that crawl

Up along its sides,

That whether the harshest

Of the strong ocean's tides,

Because the ocean is a poet,

He stays where he is,

Where a writer is free,

She writes and rids

Herself of her yearning

To be something more,

To leave herself behind,

To be able to soar,

Emotion she makes

In her own stories,

A poet is lost

All because his

Emotion is his,

It is true and real,

He wants only

To be able to feel

Beyond his boundaries,

In which he sways,

Just like the ocean,

Between beaches, he stays,

When writing poetry

Emotion is true,

Whereas writing prose

Is meant to do

Whatever she wants,

As opposed to the poet

Who writes what he feels,

He can't help but show it,

This is why I write,

Emotion blinds,

Everything else,

Even writers' minds.

Reviews

[Deseret]

that's nice, it is very well thought out and it speaks nicely, although in my opinion it is a little hard to pay attention to for a bit right after the first four lines, (just so you know i have a hard time reading poetry -which is ironic if you think about it because i write it myself) but then it apicked up again, i liked the comparison between writing poetry and being inside a prison, and how you can fake prose but you cant fake poetry. which is true. I really did like this poem