#musicandpoetry
Poetry Lives Among Us
***
“I don’t like poetry,” some proudly say,
Yet quote their favourite songs throughout the day.
They carry verses tucked within their minds,
Not seeing poetry in all they find.
For poetry was never just for books,
Or hidden in old libraries and nooks.
It lives in conversations, prayers, and pain,
In whispered memories we speak again.
It marched through history beside the drum,
Recording wars and all we’ve overcome.
It told the tales of kingdoms lost in flame,
And kept forgotten voices still with name.
It lives within the stories grandparents share,
In weathered photographs handled with care.
In letters sent from soldiers far away,
In headlines telling of the world today.
Poetry rides upon the streets we walk,
Within the humour of our daily talk.
It fills the chants of crowds demanding change,
The hopes of those who dream beyond their chains.
It speaks through protest songs and wedding vows,
Through workers bent beneath exhausted brows.
In every culture, language, faith, and land,
Poetry helps humanity understand.
Some turn away because the words feel deep,
Awakening the wounds they try to keep.
Some learned through lessons stripped of living art,
Where poetry was studied — not by heart.
Yet still they feel it pulsing through a tune,
Beneath the city lights or midnight moon.
A melody can reach what speech cannot,
And heal the silent battles people fought.
For poetry reflects both then and now,
The dreams we carried and the fears we bow to.
It questions where humanity may go,
And plants the seeds of futures yet to grow.
It tells the truth of ordinary days,
Of fleeting loves and quiet working ways.
The laughter shared, the grief we hide inside,
The countless human stories time can’t hide.
Say you dislike poetry if you will,
While music moves your soul and makes it still.
Because in every lyric, tale, and art,
Poetry has always shaped the human heart.
It is the voice of memory and time,
Of falling nations and a child’s first rhyme.
And long after our fleeting lives are through,
Poetry will remain — remembering us too.
2d ago
Jun 3, 2026 at 4:59 AM UTC
Sunburnt skins and moonkissed hearts, Pouring rains and heel-clicking walks.
Rough edged pages and unplayed tracks,
Carved pumpkins and ever burning lamps.
Unkept hair and pretty sundress,
Cold meal and unheld hands.
Apr 12, 2019
Apr 12, 2019 at 2:55 PM UTC
Songs bear the light of poetry,
But, though Augustine states singing sprouts spirituality,
“De-compose” the composed
And read the words as though
Reading any other book, and feel the light of Augustine’s mantra
Heat before witnessing growths of ember.
Does not the meaning, rather than the importance, of poetry resound more at first glance
From reading in plain concentration
Than with music
That can steer attention to reaching the note
That staccatos along the textual truth,
That leads the mind in common-time land
Like a stone drumming along a still lake?
Is truth behind words important enough
To lay the foundation for impending music?
The truth sets free
Before a sweet melody!
Apr 27, 2018
Apr 27, 2018 at 6:06 PM UTC