Is This Poetry
After all these years,
is this poetry?
Words written down on paper,
sketched with ink and pen,
inching along a blank page,
exerting feeling and emotion,
sadness, laughter, tears
and even melancholia.
Prose and poetry cannot be regulated
by rules and guidelines and grammar.
The mind drifts in inner contemplation
circumspect with life lessons.
The heart beats with anticipation
cognizant of living life well.
The spirit wisps in the breeze
clutching, holding onto the wind.
The soul languishes
in search of meaning
and purpose
of futures yet to be
of pasts now lost
and recoverable.
Is this poetry?
Only the reader knows.
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