Poem's Persona

A fun discussion of the elements of poetry's own personality and characteristics.

Poem's Persona

____________

if Not spoken of?

From whence did it journey

All dripping with Love?

We cannot decide

if it dances in lines

or marches in step

to its own perfect rhymes...

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And how did it turn out

so somber and gray

taking me down

in emotional way?

Poetry's nature

is Artistic by choice

painting each scene

with author's own voice

Its art thus requires

moods to transpire

describing in light of

those visions inspired

To be perfectly clear

most Poetry tries

but only when feeling

inspired to be realized

A picture Poem paints

is not seen with the eyes

so please understand

the meaning disguised

The process may seem

a little absurd

to hide between lines

under myriads of words

Poem's Persona ____________ Oh what is a poem if Not spoken of? From whence did it journey All dripping with Love? We cannot decide if it dances in lines or marches in step to its own perfect rhymes... And how did it turn out so somber and gray taking me down in emotional way? Poetry's nature is Artistic by choice painting each scene with author's own voice Its art thus requires moods to transpire describing in light of those visions inspired To be perfectly clear most Poetry tries but only when feeling inspired to be realized The picture Poem paints is not seen with human eyes so please understand there is meaning disguised This process might seem a little absurd to hide between lines under myriads of words Where syllables combine like a hot savory stew try sipping its juices more thoughts there to chew It may seem satisfying And sometimes feels new Poetry just loves to paint its own hue Through spoken acclaim it can inspire our youth or Rally old values with rich sense of truth At its ironic core Poetry can shame us or with iconic touch could even be famous Unlike painted pages Poetry's creed wont fade as it ages in unforgettable speed The story gets verbally told time after time It more or less echoes in proverbial rhyme On museum walls it never gets hung yet centuries old it replays ever young Gets etched onto hearts sprung forth from the tongue Poetry remains a hero unsung Poetry shouts, it whispers and brings Laughter and tears and sometimes it stings And its hard to decide if we like it or not some words most remembered are things best forgot Yet often you'll hear: “This too shall pass”... but Oh, not the words - those forever last.

Reviews

[JewelsGold]

Now read this backwards, one stanza at a time in reverse, keeping the 4 lines of each stanza in their original order, just going backwards...it's super cool

[Chris]

We can ...sometimes... forgive words, but we never forget they were spoken to us.

[Relic]

Excellent job on this. You said so much and it all has merit.

Great job!