I wrote two poems recently, and thought I’d share them here. Enjoy!
I’ve never cared for modern poetry.
The rhythm, the rhyme scheme, the entire thing,
Wrapped in a pretentious coating of description.
Set to music the whole thing changes,
Shifting into a new creation.
The story no longer tied to ground
Free to soar and float up to the sky.
But poetry is different
Speaking the words alone,
Trying to sound deep,
Filling a void that words cannot change,
That words cannot fill.
Music, it is said, speaks when words are not enough.
When words leave us behind
Music speaks, steps up.
Alone, this is a poem, pretentious word vomit.
A frantic attempt to fill the void.
Poetry can be epic,
Poetry can be beautiful,
But it can be trite,
Full of ways to wear a mask.
Either to hide pain or add more to a life.
Filling pages with “deep thoughts.”
Step back, hum a tune,
Allow the music to wash over you,
To fill your heart, to calm your soul.
I’ve never cared for modern poetry,
Unless it’s set to music.
Thought spirals, intrusive thoughts, panic attacks.
The world spins, faster faster faster, no chance to breathe.
Full of fear, scared of shadows, jumping at twigs.
And thoughts spin spin spin.
Spinning on as I struggle to keep up.
Another thought pushes in, breaking the chain.
Pausing the spin, freezing the spiral long enough to breath.
Long enough to remember
The thing that helps most.
Falling to my knees,
Looking up, crying out,
Breathing deep, the spirals done for now.
Soon, it begins again.
And always ends the same way.
With me on my knees.