A Poem In the Defense of the Poetry

Would you love to read the joy in poetry? Would you pass poetry to the pit? Or would you grant me the grace to write in defense of poetry? If you picked “yes” on the second and fourth lines Then... Refresh your thoughts. Refresh the world. Refresh the sky. Refill the air. Pave paths for poetry To read my new write... In poetry, we hop around, But it is not a futile romp. Though some lines are heavy, Hardly to wear them meaning; Also hardly to write them off— Because they are sort of traps, And they make folks shudder. I have seen folks nurse poetry as distress. And Kinsmen king poetry as philosophy. Children know it as not child's play. Teenagers tilt their heads in discord. Most minorities said not minor enough. And the majority said not mainly for them But poetry is mainly for us. A poet does not write without reason. He does not write without meaning. Though some poets write for the rhyme, they make many murmurs. But poetry marches deeper unto the soul: It paints the darndest picture of woe. It unveils the awful face of war. It paints the earnest desire for love. It paints the deepest agony ever felt. It brightens the darkest face, And gives the shattered heart the light to shine.