We Call It Poetry

An old one on the observation of poets.

With poetry--

A lonely woman 
can write about her lover 
on valentine's day. 
She can describe his most endearing traits 
line upon line upon line--
                               as if...he existed.

A young girl 
can share her deepest erotic thoughts, 
demonstrating an ability 
to take the reader's hand
and guide them with her words,
leaving them satiated--
but only 
if she's skilled enough.

For those depressed 
and those searching 
to release their pain--
It's a bloodletting.

They've been raped,
they've been bullied,
ignored and even wounded. 
The dark side held them too long.

They need you to listen 
or simply just notice they're alive. 
They may wonder if writing 
is all a fruitless endeavor
when their written cries for help
go unnoticed.

But behind poetry's walls...

A man can offer us a character, 
from a fictitious town
that resembles trees, sidewalks, 
roads and even paths 
of his own treasured youth. 

An adolescent can share a broken heart 
with a seemingly invisible world. 
He/she can release all the angst, 
tear by tear, 
until the poem has ended--
         for now. 

Poetry is a haven 
for ideas, rants, memories or thoughts 
that otherwise would go unheard by most.
The family simply wouldn't understand.  

It is a platform 
for those skilled or unskilled; 
for those confident 
and those apprehensive; 
for those that standout 
and those whose computer 
is their only escape. 

Some here,
have painstakingly learned 
poetry has its elements: 
meter, rhyme, metaphor, and more.
As for others, 
form, cadence, line breaks... 
are all unimportant.

The prolific and the obscene;
those with morals 
and those without;
religious; atheists...
they're all involved.

People have left poetry 
for greener pastures, 
only to re-emerge 
days, weeks, or even years later
when the writer needed another ear 
to listen to all he/she wanted to say.

It is a source of frustration, 
joy and confusion, 
all mentioned into one place.

It is your yesteryear, your today, 
and all your tomorrows. 

It's a percentage of your life, 
your time and your thoughts. 
It consists of creation
and destruction.

It's a statement; it's a confession.
It's a voice that understands;
It's a disciplinarian that doesn't.
It's a welcome sign.
It's a keep out sign.
It's a microcosm of continents 
and far off cultures.
It's a ghost from the past.
It's a community.
It's a small town.
It's a lyrical lagoon.

It's you...it's me...it's us
sailing within
our own private harbor.

And we call it

POETRY.

Author's Note

.

Reviews

[Woody]

brilliant depiction of WC and its "patrons". as I was reading along, I caught myself nodding in ascent cos you really hit it on the head, Relic.
I find WC a wonderful place to spend time and learn and, maybe, bring something with you for all to see.
good one, Relic.

[Relic]

Thanks so much for the review Woody

[Ern M. Yoshimoto]

indeed writing has many aspects. for me, the line 'The dark side held them too long' certainly resonated. i retreated into my word file on my darkest days. and recently this community, this 'lyrical lagoon' has helped me a lot. 99% of what i write goes unread but here i can share this passion of mine to like-minded folks.
really enjoyed this piece of meta-poetry. you captured the experience and motivation of writing with finesse.

[Thomas W Case]

Tremendous work. You hit the nail on the head.

[Relic]

I appreciate the comment, thanks. :)

[Fabian G. Franklin]

To quote Emily Dickinson, “If I read a book and it makes my whole body so cold no fire can warm me, I know that is poetry. If I feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off, I know that is poetry. These are the only ways I know it. Is there any other way?” So, to Dickinson, and to myself as well, poetry is neither in the talent of the creator nor in the pen of the author but in the heart of the reader or listener. And it is there, most definitely, that our words must take form and find life or die a quiet and unnoticed death. The rest is vanity and desire. There's an old adage that expresses much the same observation. It was recalled by William Camden (author of Britannia) in 1605 thusly, " All the proof of a pudding is in the eating." So, as a personal and collective observation, poetry may depend more upon the palate of the reader than the palette of the artist, no matter what colors he may choose to paint with.

[Relic]

Thanks for your enlightening comment, Fabian. Much appriciated. :)

[John the Baptist]

You have really covered the scope of what poetry can do here, things I had never considered. Thanks for the effort. It makes me think I'm doing something worthwhile.

[Relic]

Thank you, John. I'm glad you liked it. :)

[lightsong]

Wow Tim! what a splendid masterpiece of "POETRY", how carefully, caring and cleverly You've done it, pouring your heart into all the places, sincerely, thoughtfully and emotionally. be proud of this one my friend.

.

[Relic]

I appreciate your thoughts on this, Lightsong. Thank you. :)

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

These words really jumped out to me from this poem:

"Poetry is a haven
for ideas, rants, memories or thoughts
that otherwise would go unheard by most.
The family simply wouldn't understand."

Poetry is a reflection of who we are, all of our attributes - good and bad. This poem is a terrific summation of this journey of writing that we so love and adore.

Great work!

[Relic]

Thanks very much, Linda. I appreciate your visit. :)

[AYVID N]

To me, poetry is all that you have written above and a bit more.
I wish I could pin down why I love to write but I really cannot.
There are some things I just cannot place my finger on.
I enjoyed this poem so much, I loved it!

[Relic]

Thank you, DIVYA. I myself question why I like to put down words on the page too. It's a weird kind of need, I guess. :)

[AYVID N]

I love that you call it weird. :)
Indeed, it seems that, so often.
You are most welcome!

[Relic]

There's a song by The Allan Parsons Project called some other place. Wouldn't it be funny if we have already written all of our poems already in some other place, somewhere, in some other time. :)

[AYVID N]

Yes it would be... Sometimes I feel it too. Like there's nothing really new.
But for now, I've begun storing my poems in Google Cloud. :)

[Marvin Thomas Cox-Flynn..]

Relic,

As a nonreligious man (An Intelligent Design Free Thinking Creationist) and EX-minister, I would say that if righteousness were actually something to aspire to or attain, YOU STAND AS A RIGHTEOUS MAN ...! ... You have said all that needs, desperately needed, to be said, and that openly and honestly without frills of bells and whistles of any worldly sale's techniques ... Bravo!

Marvin Thomas Cox-Flynn de Graham

[Relic]

I appreciate your comment, Marvin, thank you.

[Ken Simm.]

So much here to relate to. Especially the third stanza for me. So many great concepts showing what it is we do.

[Miss Sharon]

(It's you...it's me...it's us sailing within our own private harbor. And we call it POETRY) What a brilliant write! Love it. ~Sharon

[Relic]

Thank you, Sharon.