Ars Poetica

Poetry. Who are you? and who do you work for?

You’re like a river flowing. Like a wind blowing.
Motion. Twisting turning kicking like waves in a choppy sea
up and down. How many verbs does it take to prove your point.
We get it. Your words create movement.

Poetry. What are you? and what does it all mean?

You’re like moonlight glimmering in hazel eyes. Skies of melted paint.
Images. A blank canvas caked with kindergarten stick figures that
come to life at night and jump into story books. Descriptions.
Flashing streams of electric current with a starry night sky as a backdrop.

Poetry. Who made you? and why are you here?

ee cummings fantasies of no rules syntax (remember) and no periods
or commas separating thoughts (our) romantic love poems of sex and win red lips (first) you are like a flower that blossoms in the spring my
love you are my everything (kiss?) cheesy fluffy charming ee dreams.

I journey the road less traveled by and sail the choppy sea of wisdom with
Oh captain, My Captain, Robert Frost wearing a Cap’n Crunch costume. I drink
a shot of fiery turpentine with Poe, a Raven chirping on his elbow. I search
the dimensions of words for meaning.

Oh Poetry. Who are you? and who do you work for?