What is Poetry?
Is it emotions flowing onto paper?
Or is it the tranquil sea that holds the world's tears?
What is Poetry?
Is it the outpouring of emotions onto
A canvas of beauty?
Despair?
What is Poetry?
Look around you.
The lives of those surrounding yours are Poetry.
Those feelings that extend and pour out to one another is Poetry.
What affects you, runs through your being and
Makes you who you are.
Who you are is Poetry.
Poetry, the undying form, style, wanders through the generations.
An emotion?
Love is Poetry.
An indescribable emotion flowing from the depths of the soul.
Such is Poetry.
Reader, listener, friend.
No poet can say what Poetry is.
Similes, metaphors, analogies,
All just chalk on the board of life.
A poet can't describe Poetry.
Even now I am left in the fog of understanding, contemplation, and wonder.
So, friend, again I ask,
What is Poetry?

I am death.
I am the knife that cuts,
I am the flesh that is torn.
I am the finger on the trigger,
I am the open wound.
I am death.
I am the murderer.
I am the victim.
I am the life lost.
I am the life gone.
I am death.
I am the cause,
I am the consequence.
I am the darkness that covers,
I am the beast that lurks.
I am death.
I am the disease,
I am the sickness.
I am the sadness,
I am the mourning.
I am death.
I am the life remembered.
I am the love that carries on.
I am the tear shed.
I am the joyful song.
I am death.
I am the legacy.
I am the memories.
I am the love felt.
I am the love remembered.
I am death.
I am the salvation,
I am the after.
I am the comma,
I am the ultimate.
I am death.
I am the relief.
I am the faithful’s pause,
I am the sinner’s eternity.
I am all seen and unseen.
Soy muerte. Soy vida.