Would you believe life is pure poetry? The good, the bad, the ugly is significant. I delight in all good coming from a bad situation. I have seen ugliness made cute, and I was delighted. "The heavens declare the glory of God, and the firmament showeth his handywork." Each day I delight in it.
Poetry as an art form predates literacy. In preliterate societies, Poetry was frequently employed as a means of recording oral history, storytelling, geneology, law and other forms of expression or knowledge that modern societies might expect to be handled in prose. The greater part of the world's sacred scriptures are made up of poetry rather than prose. Some writers believe that poetry has its origin in song.
I've seen eye of storm
I've heard Nine-Eleven songs
New life brings new songs.
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"And he hath put a new song in my mouth..." (Psalm 40:3) Some poets speak or write for the eye than the ear. But poetry for the eye, and poetry for the ear coexist in quite a number of performance poetry. All of our senses come alive, when nature's gardens we behold and browse. Songs, and poems, and prose conveying every range of emotions we know of. Life was poetry from dawn of its conception. "Let there be light." Who couldl write a poem following such command?
The whole world is a stage, and we're endowed with poetic gems; just as earth is kaleidoscopic in nature. Andrea Dietrich, in one of her gems said, "...for in the words of my poems, I ultimately found my clarity..." I once was wooed by a married Professor of Comparative Literature. Did I volunteer myself from it? No. Immaturity served me end crumbs of it; and I wanted to die. Poetry writing saved my skin, when I knew less of my powers within. I've seen eye of storms. New life brings new songs.
A faceless figure stood bold before windows of my heart
Two feet merged as dagger
But the hands of God, long emptied the cross; suspended his moves
He tried to pierce my already broken wings
But I evolved with new day's light
And was held by heaven's chain -
My heart became its clasp that was pulled up
Left and right I felt Minerva's might.
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From time to time, my husband, Joseph, surprise me with poetic lines. I'd say, honey! that's the start of a poem. My sister, Milly makes me smile my best smile, when out of the blue; she'd say something like, "I live in utopialand. I sleep in Shangrila. I have felt the rapture when I think of my lover. This is where the right temple vibrates down where life began..." Fantasy or not, her lines are poetic. My eldest brother, Reginald, once penned me these lines: "The eye of the cow fattens the calf." My young daughter and son I could not yet get, from out the Country of Belize. Now, for the two, life is a breeze.
It is said that pure poetry delights. Poetry Soup, or Soup's Garden; or Soup's Cafe as I would sometimes call its site, delights. In addition, it is nurturing. Above all else, respectable folks the world over; arrives with blessings, enough to share.
The language of poetry is super rich
But richer still, is simplicity and bliss
It brings, while given from the heart
It's love the universe deems as true art.
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