Not only do I love writing but I also enjoy reading. So many of the amazing things I read are enjoyed by so few, as not every literary marvel is also a marketing mogul. It’s this, i care to share most.
the cold frost
that dapples the windows
to the soulbarren desert
of just desserts
the tawdry expectation
of inexplicable palpation
in biting whorls
of detrimental defiance
the time clock
the grand entrance
the vestibules of night
Poetry is an artistic expression of the “beautiful.” It encompasses feeling, imagination, beauty. Poetry is both “art” and “truth.”
The poet, sometimes through cognition, which is like a gift, is able to create something beautiful. From Shakespeare to Milton to Wordsworth. The list is endless. To be able to see things through the eye of a poet, is a wondrous thing.
Poetry uses figurative expressions to transmit ideas, awake feelings, and inspire the imagination, which connect the individual mind and heart to universality.
There is more to this post. Continue to read The Beauty of Poetry on the link here.
14 day extension… distance lengthens like my hair grown since I started paying attention to little things like that and all the creases in the crumpled sky closely I familiarize the face of time no longer strangers now I will acknowledge as it goes by as I sharpen my skill set and cut through monotony that’s become life I practice a daydream long after daylight… – Jen
You say you’re falling in love with me and that’s why you need to walk away now before I break your heart into two. Of course, I’ll break your heart. I’m an extrovert. That’s what we’re famous for doing.
it worries you that I can talk to anyone and make them smile so wide, the ends of their lips have no choice but to touch the wrinkles around their eyes. It makes you insecure. You need to walk away, despite knowing that if you leave my stories will leave me too. You’ll say bye and I’ll just open my mouth to try to ask you to stay and you’ll hear all my stories shattering inside my chest, and then as I cry, it’ll leave me. I’ll try to find my stories again. I’ll look for it in the lost and found box in the cafes you and I constantly went to. I’ll see if it’ll try to photobomb when I take selfies, like you used to. I’ll search for it and I won’t find it. It’ll kill me, make me feel empty.
But, stories are just a form of art, just like me, and our only defining characteristic is that we’ll always find a way back to each other so you choose to walk away even if you’re breaking my art. “they’ll come back.” Introverts are poems, extroverts are stories. Even if after this artbreak, my stories comes back to me as poems, that’s okay. Maybe then you and I can rhyme.