"behest" poems - Hello Poetry

The first thinkers were poets Naming Mother Earth Beginning symbolic thinking Of nature, death and birth Though themes are often repeated Love, Beauty and God Poetry in the guise of Religion A prophet or a fraud The poet resurrects the Primitive Through allegory and similes Disarming the unknown like explorers Sublime Prophets and Visionaries They must lay bare those treasured images That must be expressed Unraveling and revealing the sounds At each soul’s behest Encompassing the entire Cosmos So lyrical the beat The poet’s excitement flows outward Laid at the Reader’s feet So original, individual She won’t examine or explain Letting go the festering feelings Disturbances in her brain He exposes his dark, wounded psyche Just to release and express Such capacity to see and compare Hyperbole at its best I love, I hate, I suffer A special dance in rhythm and rhyme The poet as a buffer Lessening the pain and sting of time Laden with symbol and feelings She gives you sweet relief From something urgent, revealing Confusion to belief Through a cinematic kind of seeing The poet purges to transform By leaping through Alice’s looking glass She never was one to conform Quite intolerant of convention Just like The Mad Hatter His passions immune to all logic In syncopated patter Jamming up the poet’s mind Struggling for expression Seeking order out of chaos An infantile regression Cleaving to his imaginary world The poet breaks out into words Creating sound paintings to be unfurled So his own agony is blurred She succumbs to storms of passion With instinctive techniques Rhymes and rhythm still in fashion Out of hand flows mystique The poet mines from his unconscious The Reader is not blind For every single line and symbol Means something to the mind Causing an inner liberation Enlightenment or flight It is a matter of life and death When darkness turns to light.

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Nov 14, 2016

Nov 14, 2016 at 6:55 PM UTC

terry-jordan

An Ode to Poets

The first thinkers were poets Naming Mother Earth Beginning symbolic thinking Of nature, death and birth Though themes are often repeated Love, Beauty and God Poetry in the guise of Religion A prophet or a fraud The poet resurrects the Primitive Through allegory and similes Disarming the unknown like explorers Sublime Prophets and Visionaries They must lay bare those treasured images That must be expressed Unraveling and revealing the sounds At each soul’s behest Encompassing the entire Cosmos So lyrical the beat The poet’s excitement flows outward Laid at the Reader’s feet So original, individual She won’t examine or explain Letting go the festering feelings Disturbances in her brain He exposes his dark, wounded psyche Just to release and express Such capacity to see and compare Hyperbole at its best I love, I hate, I suffer A special dance in rhythm and rhyme The poet as a buffer Lessening the pain and sting of time Laden with symbol and feelings She gives you sweet relief From something urgent, revealing Confusion to belief Through a cinematic kind of seeing The poet purges to transform By leaping through Alice’s looking glass She never was one to conform Quite intolerant of convention Just like The Mad Hatter His passions immune to all logic In syncopated patter Jamming up the poet’s mind Struggling for expression Seeking order out of chaos An infantile regression Cleaving to his imaginary world The poet breaks out into words Creating sound paintings to be unfurled So his own agony is blurred She succumbs to storms of passion With instinctive techniques Rhymes and rhythm still in fashion Out of hand flows mystique The poet mines from his unconscious The Reader is not blind For every single line and symbol Means something to the mind Causing an inner liberation Enlightenment or flight It is a matter of life and death When darkness turns to light.