Purpose of Poetry
Posted: 11 Nov 2018, 06:04
Written in answer to a question to that effect on Linked-In.
Poetry’s purpose is over the moon,
Leaping hearts capture it ever so soon.
Poetry’s soul is a great trumpet blast.
Some jump out of bed. Some will cover their head.
Poetry’s feel is tenderly borne
So those who are tender can polish its horn.
Poetry waits upon listening ears
And listeners wait upon words in arrears.
Poetic enchantment can capture the soul
Emotion, mind, heart, in a pirouette roll.
Some men will dance. Some men will sing.
Artists with paint are found doing their thing.
Musicians will join to transport for the day.
But a poet tucks words that will ne’er fade away
But sit powerful, chained to the credulous mind
To close it, or open it – Creation’s kind.
Poetry’s purpose is over the moon,
Leaping hearts capture it ever so soon.
Poetry’s soul is a great trumpet blast.
Some jump out of bed. Some will cover their head.
Poetry’s feel is tenderly borne
So those who are tender can polish its horn.
Poetry waits upon listening ears
And listeners wait upon words in arrears.
Poetic enchantment can capture the soul
Emotion, mind, heart, in a pirouette roll.
Some men will dance. Some men will sing.
Artists with paint are found doing their thing.
Musicians will join to transport for the day.
But a poet tucks words that will ne’er fade away
But sit powerful, chained to the credulous mind
To close it, or open it – Creation’s kind.