Poems aren't simple raps About money or *** Nor a contest To see how many words you could rhyme With time or chime or slime or crime Like the crime I'd be committing If I confined these words to such a small pool Of what society deems poetry to be...
Poetry is a being Born from freedom Risen from the tides Of emotions that ran so deep It cut into a person's heart and soul... So I guess I'm just trying to understand When it became such a dreary concept Taught in the confines of walls As rigid and cold As the useless rhyme scheme of words Released into the world for a simple test When in reality, poetry was meant to be sown with care And grow into something beautiful...
The real beauty of poetry Comes from the way The letters dance and flow together Into the head and to your heart Binding us all together Cherishing our differences In the same rhythm it holds The entire universe With all its secrets In the space between them
A response to a teacher RH and I had years ago that I found in the lost files of her (RH's) poetry journey... I guess at the time I, like the others, despised writing in general as much as that teacher of ours, but RH's love for it never dwindled and I hope it never does... Almost crying thinking about all these memories though it has nothing to do with the poem so before I turn this into a rant, enjoy and leave your comments below.. ~BM