Sometimes Poetry is weird
Its language strange
And its images vague.
The inspiration ignites
The weirdest hues of life.
Hard to say what incites a poet
Or towards what emotion it is geared.
Here a poet doesn’t smell, or touch, or see the rose
Here the poet hears a Rose!
Here a poet doesn’t feel the wind
He catches the wind!
Its rhymes defy all logic to the point of being silly!
Its syllables stretch like elastic,
Meanings tethered in loose hamstrings.
The imagery of a poetic heart,
Or the obdurate linguist crossing all the bars!
Either way, it needs another
Weirdly poetic heart to complete the game.
You and I both are a partner in it!
2. 18. 2020
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