Is poetry just a symptom
or the disease itself?
It has nothing to offer.
Except that feverish haze
when I am at it.
An unwritten enormity
is a siren's song.
It always wrenches me
to pour it into words.
A poem feels best
when unexpressed.
Given the shape
it crouches in its smallness.
One would expect it to have
those deep searching eyes.
Piercing the reading public.
Nothing like that exists.
More over, it shrivels
into being non-great.
And slips into enormity.
1 comment:
Poetry is neither the symptom
nor the disease.
It is a cure to
put you at ease
with yourself,
and everything else.
A poem unexpressed
is like a butterfly larva
waiting to hatch.
Once it does, it's free
to fly anywhere,
touch anyone with
it's colourful wings.
Sometimes it is caught
and killed, lies all flat
in a dusty book in
an old library's corner.
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