Based on Silent Ones Idea and Part 2 of Poetry Is so this makes 3
You cannot tell someone how to be poetic.
One of the beauty's of God's creation is variety.
Everyone has a different way to view the world. So expression is personal and how they do it,
is how they do it.
You can dislike the well and the pump,
the water may be bitter, but poetry is a pipe.
A pipe is a pipe. (I suppose you can hit
someone in the head with a pipe,
O but this one likes it?!)
Contrite=Clean pipe=poetic hydration= delicious
A garden, apologetics' pardoned.
So many topics of value to water and brighten
in synthesis
Most relatable in at least one way,
some maybe a vantage point yet to be reached.
Poems written, certainly make sense to the Poet,
intent for them
timing of delivery.
The poem vehicle is guiltless and clean.
All non maliced expression is beautiful.
Beauty is there to be seen.
Reaching others is beautiful,
poets know what I mean.
Indeed, a contrite heart's expression cannot be
told how to beat, rhythm or song.
Channel the mind's lifeblood to transfuse
in drops of iv connection.
It is a personal inner working, each
with personality,, a variety, multiplicity, complexity, ingenuity with it's multitude throng of shadows long. ing, to show a cog run
spilling for a dawn ing, kaleiding
with its own gratuity,
with other spring unleashings, seasonings
scent of sprigs sprung reconciling-filing,
suns setting down,
pages aglow with flavors abound for of sight,
sense, touch of taste- of the profound.(a bit much?
No)
A psalm, a palm, a plum, a tongue
(testing, tasting litmus for the truth)
Expression is our spirit animal's instinct.
How can instinct of feeling, "intuition" be wrong?
You may be wrong, but your feelings are always true.
They are a telling of the truth as you know it.
So transpose your interpreter,
3D ink your printer, lube for that ultrasound hum,
seeing reaction, scan for it
and hope for more, so that we can see what
was in you all along.
Then throw up in the bottomless pit,
because you are impregnated with it.
It is squishy, you can feel it in the pit,
under your feat.
Copyright ©
Jude Herrick
|