Notes About The Poem
Written 14 December 2025 for Why not Poetry Contest of John Lawless
Syllable count checked on wwwhowmanysyllables.com>syllable_counter
Why not Poetry
Why not a poem, when the world turns proud,
To issue a whisper one is not cowed?
Why not carve a poem, when heart turns sore,
To seek calm comfort knocking at the door?
Why not a poem, to chant sunlit days,
To shade the sparks, share one`s joy on the way?
Why not a verse to paint a starry night,
To hold the wonder in a silver light?
Why not a verse to catch the falling rain,
To listen lonely to its lax refrain?
Why not a poem, for the wafting breeze,
That rustles secrets through the leafy trees?
Why not a poem, when deep feelings glide,
To let them surface, with the flowing tide?
Why not a poem, when warm words gush new,
To paint a picture, honest, strong, and true?
Why not a verse, to sing the shine of spring,
The robin wobbling with its waving wing,
The sharp, sweet smell of star fruit in the air,
The meaningful moments beyond compare?
Why not a poem for the joy we find,
The friendly faces of a kindred mind,
The shared laughter, echoing far and free,
A tapestry of happy memory?
Why not a poem, when we face the wall,
When a divine beacon answers our call,
When a thread of hope guides us on our way
Towards a brighter more forgiving day?
Why not a verse to please our inner self,
To be creative, at peace with ourselves,
To let the smooth rhythm carry us along,
And weave our stories in a gentle song?
Why not a poem to paint the image
Of a rare bird, with colourful plumage,
And its cruising flight in the azure sky
To reach the apex of the inner high?
Why not a verse, to quit behind a trace,
A little beauty, in this hurried space?
Why not a poem for others to see,
To inspire all those who desire to be?.
A poem conveys in a trite, cute way
One`s feel, thoughts, mood, any time, any day
On issues bearing on men and the earth
From birth to death, with sadness or with mirth.
So why not press the keys, to carve a verse,
Whether it rhymes or not, terse or not terse,
Let our imagination free its lens
And let our heart find its own recompense?
For in the writing, and the letting go,
A silent sparkle starts to softly flow.
And in that moment, free from doubt and fear,
We'll grasp why poetry is held so dear.
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