WHAT IS POETRY

Tell me, is it all about imagery and metaphor
Rather than poetic treatments that tell a tale
As in that regard, I guess I may regularly fail
There’s room for both in this world, for sure

All that soft and gentle wording may be fluff
Or always being subtle when a point is made
It may be anger too, in a verse’s sharp blade
If one is deeply affected, then that is enough

Complex structure can often get out of hand
Trailing rhyme, iambic meter, syllable counts
Yet for meaning, rules leave hardly an ounce
And for the poet, not so easy to understand

Using all those fancy words is almost a crime
As it may sometimes be close to showing off
Basic Anglo-Saxon never needs a hat to doff
And sometimes, meaning gets lost in rhyme

This may sound like I’m a grumpy old poet
Well, perhaps I am, but I still draw the line
Yet inspiration, variety and creativity is fine
If words are an unkempt bush, I’ll know it

ANOTHER VISION

It was just the bright blaze of light
Blinding, between wooden blinds
That suddenly gave me inspiration
After only a moment of hesitation
Ressurected memories of all kinds
Of that angelic figure, all in white

Spirit beings aren’t normal things
Why this image, I really can’t tell
Perhaps it’s an icon of redemption
Or hope for a timely intervention
Even some magic that casts a spell
Yet I sense the peace it now brings

Some think it might be a revelation
Such that I’ll gain an understanding
Of who I am, and what is yet to be
But is it a mere daydream or reality
Or are my perspectives expanding
Yet know that it was no invocation

I suspect it’s sunlight playing tricks
Such images, they do come and go
Yet certainly is a sight worth seeing
What looked like an ethereal being
I don’t deserve such a visit, I know
Maybe I’m overdue for my daily fix