Freedom of Poetry

An appeal of poetry is its lack of rules... though not to be loose as a plucked goose – without bare essentials for flight struts of logic, living words that excite with lift long after the reading and initial gliding a pleasant aftertaste not necessarily sweet often profound such seasoning (therefore, freedom unbound can be a self-inflicted noose – God yet dealing with His man, on the intellectual physical loose Poetry~ a harbinger of potential wings Poetry~ the elastic of sling-shot words woven hemp of curiosity and senseful affixation, tautening the the literary-bow for enabled focused release Poetry, the loftier dialogue of both war and peace can be a voice of cold desertion while also the arms of love's entreating embrace... with pestilence of hell while equally possessing the charm of saintly chants~ Poetry, the voice of victory and defeat, co-joining of calm with fear, for their similarity of awe Poetry, a writer's quest to make sense of both soothing nature and seasonal temperament of our creator His sunny risings then quakes and deluges confounded– poetry, somewhere within our fanciful journeys imagines a deeper truth that witty penetration will hopefully incant off the page rising up and out into blissful new unbound, forever enlightening living reality Poetry, a soaring liberty and grounding addiction....