Poetry

You guessed it, my poem on Poetry

Routine, it hurts the soul of creativity
The music is too loud, you try to call to it
but your cries fall on deaf ears.
Routine surrounds itself around it, it shields it
from the outside. Not allowing for creativity
to be disturbed. No materialistic object can remove it.
It cant be bargained with, It cant be reasoned with.
I offer a solution.

Poetry, Literature's atomic bomb, can destroy it.
We stay alive for these rivers of overflowing
inspiration to fill our thirsty voids of boredom, conformity and
Routine. We live for passion, for nature, for love
for life. These are all intertwining streams that give us
thought, that allow us to break the chains
and awaken the sleeping giant of creativity within us.

The thought of beauty, the thought of grass, The most complex
concepts of Love and Hate to even the most simple of matters
of a pencil or a cat. Poetry is the air to our creative lungs
We breathe it, hold it and exhale ideas, thoughts and words
for inspiration, for our thirst and above all for our meaning in life.