The Way With Poetry


Such is the way

with poetry.

Words fall onto the page,

seeking kindred meanings,

while meaning splits

into fine symmetry.

Two sides of a single plane,

each vying for their time.

Is it truth,

or is it deception?


Or Memorex?

No one knows,

until they speak the words out loud.

No one knows,

until the pen stops moving,

and the poet stands up

and staggers away.

Drunk again,

but it is only a mask,

only a display of compliance.

Baring his weakness,

his vulnerability,

because that is what the world wants.

Every syllable a scar,

and each metaphor a dagger,

that slips up from behind,

between the ribs,

to pierce the heart.

Such is the way

with love.

Such is the way

with life.

Such is the way

with the struggle to find words

that free the mind

and heal the soul.

Songs for the lonely,

and symphonies for the downtrodden.

Hope for a new generation,

and forgiveness

for the sins

of the past.

These things never come easy.

So, no wonder

the words prove so elusive.

Such is the way

with poetry;

ignored when it is noticed at all.

But undaunted,



it keeps going.



DJR – 2023

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