What is a Poem?

What's a poem if it does not rhyme?
What's a poem if you can't count the time?
Not every poem must have a beat,
To be considered truly sublime.

Indeed, a poem might simply be
a list of words that beautifully express
the feelings of the heart and the thoughts of the mind.

Perhaps a poem rhymes and sounds just like a song,
where the soul is pouring out what it longs for.

Perhaps a poem sounds like an essay,
filled with profound words of wisdom,
where the mind is sorting thoughts and making sense of things.

A poem doesn't have to rhyme.
A poem doesn't have to count to time.
Not every poem must have a beat
to be considered truly sublime.

A poem.
A poem is where the thoughts flow freely,
where emotions run wild,
where feelings come together and make more sense in the end.

A poem is word art.
The artist paints with words, rather than color.
But just like color spreads over a canvas, so do words over a page,
forming a picture for the viewer to understand the creator more.

This poem rhymes a little,
but it also doesn't rhyme a lot.
This poem, to simply put it,
just put sense to some thoughts.



Written by Yours Truly during a slow moment at work.  I've got poems on the brain today.

Comments

  1. Matt S.December 8, 2020 at 10:43 AM

    I agree with this wholeheartedly.
    This one had a good rhythm to it. Song songs if you will.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Hymn Begins

The guitar plays the familiar chord. There is a hush as the congregation soaks in the lovely sound. The instruments slowly build, and the voices rise up. The hymn begins. It's an old hymn, traditional and well-known. The words are like honey, so rich and sweet. Melody and harmony melt together, The tune filled with spirit and passion. In the crowd, her voice wavers.  The chorus fills her soul with precious memories. The memories well up in her throat and spill out in her tears. The hymn continues. The wavering voice grows strong again. She finds the harmony in a sea of melody. With eyes closed and hands raised, she sings with jubilee. The precious memories change to a vision. She sees herself meeting Jesus, singing a hymn. The hymn ends. The congregation sings a long amen. The visions of rapture fade as her eyes open. And in her soul, the hymn begins again. Love, Lynwood
Read more

Lemons and Opportunities

Inconvenience. What a hassle, what a nuisance.  What a negative thing to occur. But what if we look at inconvenience differently? Opportunity. A chance to grow, a chance to learn. Just as life can throw us lemons, and we complain and groan. When really all we need to do is use the lemons and supplies we already have and then the lemons aren't that bad. We can add some lemon to our drinks throw in some sugar, too. And the sour, inconvenient lemons become our favorite treat. We can add some eggs and sugar,  top it with meringue. Or we can add some flour, eggs, and sugar, and ice it with a glaze. Then the sour, inconvenient lemons become pie or a cake. So it's all about perspective, you see. When life throws us inconvenient lemons, the lemons are not all that we have.  We have tools in life to take those inconvenient lemons and make something delightful instead. What an opportunity! This was a poem that came from a gooseberry of thoughts going on in my mind.  I was teac...
Read more

A rainy day at the park - a lesson in vulnerability

Image
I grew up in a suburb of Richmond, VA. We had all four seasons, a lot of Baptist churches, and the food was always made with extra love.  One of my favorite activities growing up was going to Deep Run Park. Grandmac usually took me, sometimes just the two of us, and sometimes my brother or a cousin or two would join (pictured). We had picnics, played out Grandmac’s stories on the playground (Three Billy Goats Gruff was our favorite game), and played by the creek back in the woods of the park. Grandmac showed me how dried leaves made perfect little boats, and we would pick out our own boat leaves and have a race. She got down in the water with us and helped us build dams out of rocks and sand, and we would often check on how well the dams would hold up.  When I was four, on a particularly rainy autumn day, Grandmac came over to play. She had an extra glimmer in those playful eyes of hers; I could tell she was up to something. She pulled out a new raincoat and boots for me and, ...
Read more