O poetry, poetry, wherefore art thou Poetry.

Word, the magic language of our heart.
Words, the life of my love, Poetry
Words can you help me find her.

I, dislike labels, I don’t like boxing people or ideas in, I don’t like placing limits on any form of creativity, and yet I have this unease of anger growing in me because I have this love called poetry and people are using her, people dress anger, resentment, pain in a costume that resembles her but I know how she sounds I know her touch and this you bring before me this is not her.
I do not know if the people have been deceived or that they are trying to deceive but my Love she is getting hurt, and still, she is waiting for all with open arms, and I am glad I hope all can be embraced by her, so you can know who she is.

I am not a poet laureate I have not studied language, I am not an expert in any form. (I struggle to spell basic words)
I love poetry.
Poetry has transformed over the years, and it seems every couple of years it goes through a transformation process, that there is some kind of poetic rebel that does something different and call it poetry, that sticks to his or her idea of it and poetry transforms adapts to that style.
Now we have slam poetry, and we have open mic nights, I wrote, often and I try to write poems and when I felt brave I would read it to a friend, and I did not think of it as poetry just me writing, until one day a friend showed me Anis Mojgani shake the dust, my mind broke and I could not stop listening to him and discover other poets Buddy Wakefield, Andrea Gibson, Derrick C. Brown (who as well does comedy) Shane Koyczan, I listen to them in a playlist on shuffle and repeat, I started imitating their styles and just got swallowed in “performance poetry” and then I started reading poets of old and I saw how things changed with the passing of time.



Poetry, darling where did you go?
I hear you between their teeth
I hear you underneath angry words
I smell you on their broken breath
Poetry, darling do not die.




It seems that poetry has become popular again and with that, it seems to go through its new metamorphosis, “Insta poetry” and ” Insta poets” There are channels dedicated to poetry on youtube it is an amazing win for poetry and poets and I enjoy all the different ways poetry is being expressed on any platform, it is changing and I think change is good but I don’t want us to lose her, forget her heart.
What I am trying to rant here is that I hear spoken word pieces and they seem to be an outburst of anger and it seems focused on the hurt, It seems to be a selfish weapon hammers swang for one, and it even changed to shock value let me drop a word in here that will catch them, off guard.
I believe poetry is to transform pain and translate it to bring awareness and understanding I believe poetry is a map that navigates the heart and that’s why it often is a mysterious path and everybody gets a different meaning.
BILLY COLLINS: “Of all the things poetry is, I think the most important thing it is, it provides us with a history of the human heart. We have lots of histories, of course. And we have history departments in universities. And we have histories about truces and about boundary disputes, and inventions, and wars. But poetry is really the only history we have of the human heart.”
“starting with Catullus and moving up to today, they’re all speaking the same language. All these poets are really wrestling with the same things. And they’re wrestling with emotions of fear of death or embracing death, gratitude for what God has given them, loneliness, adventure, failure to assert oneself. They’re all humans. Dante, Milton, Wordsworth, you see the same stuff in there. The language sounds very different. But underneath it all, we’re all after the same thing.”


She is near to my heart and I am only writing in concern that we have lost her and adopted an imposter a selfish weapon aimed to cause separation and pain, that is not her she is strong and powerful she is a bright light in the darkest places burning blind eyes open she is a whisper to a brittle soul and she screams to the lost, she defends the invisible she is a light that exposes she is our true hart please do not lose her.
It is hard to navigate the heart, between all our hurt and pain but that is the craft of poetry and the beauty while you write you discover the honest you not just the resentful and angry or in pain you, she helps reveal you and in revealing you, it helps others discover themselves.
My plea is don’t just spend more time with your heart and let poetry find you.

Word, the magic language of our heart.
Words, the life of my love, Poetry
Poetry, you are not lost
We are, come find us, my darling, please.

Thank you for reading
Peace and Love


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s