Tear open your rib cage,

suck out your feelings,

expose your naked self.

Break all rules,

let your thoughts soar

without boundaries.

Scrawl graffiti of life.

Pluck heartstrings

with symbolism.

Lie in bed and listen

to hammered ideas.

Experience without

struggling or flailing.

Break out

of your restraints,

bathe in frozen fire.

Allow the rumble

of poetry to mesh

with your shadows.

#StringingUpPoetry #Challenge #LetMeSeeYourInsides #SkinInTheGame

If you don't like poetry,

then you probably don't like song lyrics.

If you don't like song lyrics,

then you probably don't like music.

If you don't like music,

then you probably don't like dancing.

If you don't like dancing,

then you probably don't like ballet.

If you don't like ballet,

then you probably don't like opera.

I don't like opera.

So, we've got an enemy that we share.

If you don't like poetry, I don't care.

Once you happen upon poetry that whispers to your soul

and throbs in your heart

you'll be entranced.

A soul is hard to move

but poetry is a song

that only the soul hears;

a melody

only the heart can sing.

everyone's souls dance

to different beats,

some fast,

some slow,

turtles

and

tigers,

butterflies

and

grasshoppers.

And when a poem

takes the form

of a butterfly,

it throbs a butterfly soul,

and tiger form,

a tiger soul.

a poem that flits like fire,

or dances like wind

may escape

your grasp,

but just keep hunting

and you'll pounce

on poetry

that throbs

your soul,

whether you're

a dragon

or a butterfly.

❋ ❋ ❋

You haven't found the right type of poetry then. It is like saying, I only like white wines, not reds.

Which types of white wines? I usually love Rieslings, I usually do not like Chardonnays. That said, there are exceptions with each. Vintage and years make a difference. If your only exposure to red wine was a cheap $6 bottle of a table blend, you have missed so many options that taste nothing like that blend. A fruity, rich Merlot. A spicy-light Pinot Noir.

Poetry can be a lot like wine. Tons of it is only meant for a small group of people. Some of the really good stuff can touch nearly everyone.

The thing with good poetry, the poetry that can touch you deeply and profoundly, is that you will understand it on a innate and intuitive level, before you will even comprehend how all of it fits together to stir you.

Some poetry is deeply structured, some is not. The biggest difference between verse/poetry and prose is how your mind and soul processes them. Prose is always processed consciously first, poetry seeps into your subconscious initially.

Exercising both of one's consciousness is paramount to richer growth in life. Poetry bridges to one's dreams more easily then prose does. Why would anyone want to live without it knowing this?

You believe you do not like poetry, you may want to take another look at it.

Not every poem is for everyone. Some people like sports some not. Some sports-lovers love football, some baseball. Some football lovers would rather just watch Pro ball, others just collegiate. Poetry is the same. It is a vast universe. To say you do not like any of it, would mean you must have read every poem ever crafted. You haven't, so it is worth taking another look.

For once you find some poetry you do like, it is like you have found locked portions of your soul suddenly busted open.

So drink some poetry tonight. Make friends with Keats and Eliot. Make aquaitences with Poe and Byron. Enjoy. And you are very welcome!

And what should I tell you?

Should I ramble my tongue,

Or my accent will frighten you?

Let me sing you a little song,

If you didn’t like it! Well, screw you.

Please don’t kill me, I’m too young!

Thank you.

-Life is poetry, and we’re dancing on its rhythm-

#Sarcasm #Poetry #Philosophy

it's a poem

not Poetry

u may not like

u might not like

a scent or scene,

a touch, a scream

u may not like

the self you see,

this image, now

u might not like

old memories,

or futures told

u might not like

your role in it

what sticks, or stones

u may not like

your own response

but there it is...

just a Poem

.... Poetry's in

the brush of Life.

"Hm. Let me have a listen." I place my stethescope against the poem-hater's breast. "Got a strong rhythm going, so you aren't dead inside. Maybe it's the brain." I slap the back of his head. Hard. "Did you feel that?"

He nods.

"Then what the hell is wrong with you?" I smack the back of his head with my hardcover copy of [insert favorite poet]’s Complete Poems. “After the pain subsides, read [insert favorite poem]. If you still don't feel a thing, I suggest you see a specialist because nobody should have to live with a numb heart and mind."

Poetry might not be for you

If you see the stanzas and roll your eyes

or cringe at the thought of the rhyming ties

But I'll let you in on a secret

Only poets tend to know:

Poetry isn't for you

Poets don't write to please you

Poets don't write for the appreciation of another

Poets write for the expression

They write to celebrate their dreams

They write to keep nightmares at bay

They write for the beauty they see in life

They write for the injustices they can't stand

They write for the blessings they get to expeirence

They write for the memories that tear them apart

The secret is

You don't have to like poetry

It's not for you

Poets don't write for the readers

Poets write for themselves

A poet crawls

Storytellers run

Readers comprehending

Soar closest the sun

There's life in a word

Sought to be heard

A force trubadours

Could not deny

Rhymes I carefully mind

Tears behind

Me eyes before I cry

A creature to touch

A wall to be breached

Meaning so much

A heart to be reached

Nothing too fancy

Just honest transparency

Only what is

Need not what was

Fret not the future

For a moment just does

The act of creation

Is the elation

After completion

No fear of deletion

For what of my printed pride?

But a shadow for me to hide

No destination

Nor expectations

It's all about the ride

Just dip your toes. Test the waters.

Start out small, an inch. Let the lines tell you it’s ok to come in. Don’t leap and end up over your head.

Try to feel the words like water. Cool, rising up as you step deeper. Their intentions little waves that ripple across the surface.

Each step is your step. Like a pool, if you find a level your comfortable in, sit. Stay there for awhile. Re-read the lines. Watch the same word drip from the handrail.

Then step a little deeper. Let the words rise to your chest. Feel them buoyant around your heart, lifting you with emotion waves.

Feel your foot out to the darkness. Release your trepidation and wade into weightlessness. Allow the water to carry you. Let it splash playfully around your shoulders, and mist your face in tears.

Work yourself further out. Pull your arms in front of you. Spread away the waters and read through the words. See through them. Then dunk your head under the calm and swim.

Become emerged. Dive through imagination. Let the words surround you. Hold you suspended. Swim along in their rhythm. Then burst to the end in excited freedom. Let the message pump you to the surface in a spray of literature.

Smile and fling letters from your hair. Let their release rain for your soul. They fall to the water creating new ripples of thought on the pool. The vibration rings overlapping where you had just been.

Climb up over the walls that hold in the waters and dry off. Absorb the droplets. Feel them sticky on your skin, a resin left by discovery.

Bask in the warm light of realization and dip your feet back over the edge. Feel the words lap at your toes again. A tingle of familiarity.

Then hold your breath, and jump back in.