Poem of Poetry

March 6, 2012
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Poems have always been

for pleasure, for listeners

to lean back in their chairs
and hear a pleasant piece of perfection

issue from lips in illuminated -


so Why

are they so worthless to destroy

as a puppeteers’ torn Toy,

to be treated as nothing more

than to moaning students bore?

Such irks poor students like as I

to know that poetry must die.

so whY


do all owls hoot the same?

might not One learn to crow-
whilst the others play the game
leaving the owlets feeling low?

Cast is the spell to the weak impel

to fight and fell even the greatest bell

That one day will not ring,
nor to the Heavens sing:

that poetry can be torn

or that poets be only born.

For all poems have not meaning
that is not obvious from the first.

Some seem it impossible maybe

Are just as simple as can be.

so why


is it so necessary to dissect

and shred
and tear

and rip
them apart for Meaning
they do not- possess?

To hiss like serpents

with displeasure at breaking

is only natural, when
sweet soft syllables

bring such joy
without once breathing
a breath of terminology.

so WHY

when wise idiots deface

a perfect stanza
do we not relace
those words together
so they may be whole

If poems breathe life

into our life
then why do we take their life
from their lives.

Poetry is what but words if it is assigned no meaning?
Only… then is it,

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