Poetry, Or?..

Long I've treaded the lyric path

Unleashed my wailing, every drop of wrath

Found peace in these pages, a mental bubble bath

People often ask me - What's up with that!?

I've written secluded from critics and judges

Gathered power and inspo from pains and grudges

Wrote it, disliked it, erased all the smudges

Found cure in the details, accepted the sludges

Then one day, I was procrastinating per usual

Something put me in a state quite confusional

A lady with bright hair, strangely so suitable

Taught me that my poetry was delusional

On the other side of the screen, she galantly preached

As I focused on her brown roots, yet unbleached

Her wisdom and harsh knowledge she impeached

"The line between poetry and prose shan't be breached!"

I closed the window, seemingly untroubled

As for seven years, I'd been living in a bubble

But the words were planted, then they were doubled

My egotistical sense of poetry, in a rubble

She advised me to read every letter aloud

And imagine I read it in front of a crowd

Learn what is and what is not allowed

Ground myself, and not be (too) proud

I thank you, lady with the bright, red hair

You carry a wisdom ever so rare

I will better my writing, I will dare to dare

Then maybe my words will reach you somewhere.

Reviews

[jacob erin-cilberto]

a quote from one of my favorite movies...William Forrester said "Why is it that the things we write for ourselves are so much better than those we write for others"
When others tell us how we should write, we become more them than ourselves...That is a shame.
We are mass of unique voices...or at least those who could and should be if they follow their own path..."the road not taken."

I really like your poem...next to last stanza, did you mean "advised"?

[Omikron]

Thank you for your review, and your observation is correct, I seem to have misspelled "advised". English is my third language, meaning there is plenty of room for improvement. I appreciate the feedback!