Poetry is concentrated thought, 
the essence of an experience put into words. 
A moment in a persons life, 
crystallised into one expression. 

A personal communication with other people, 
almost on an intimate level, 
being something inexpressible that is hinted at, 
and only those who are close to, 
can understand what it means.
 
Human experience, nature, life, 
all stirred in a stew *** of knowledge, 
picked out to taste and savour, 
or to incite new ideas. 

Meditation is concentrated thought/no thought, 
and in some ways poetry is produced by this same quiet, still, 
where searching through our minds we catch at straws 
and find that which interests us, 
we develop this thread into a series of sounds and meanings, 
that when complete, expound one vision, 
one aspect of the diamond we call life. 

Each poet, her/his own creed of conduct, manner, dance, 
to fascinate our friends and fellow lovers of the word, 
with all its myriad meanings and inspired sensations, 
recorded, neatly bundled in the cloth of knowledge 
and taken on with us like a tramps sack, 
into the road that is the rest of our lives.