One thing about poetry.
People interpret it in different ways,
Depends on their key,
That was built over days.
Each door to a word,
In each stanza and each line,
Has a voice that can be heard,
As far away as a mile.
Only to the one,
With the matching key,
Unlocking the door,
That would set them free,
To explore the wonders of poetry,
See what it could create.
Word after word,
Masterpieces in your hands,
Emotional, spiritual,
Reflective and philosophical.
Two things about poetry.
It doesn’t have to rhyme,
Each word already fits,
With its matching line.
But when it does rhyme,
It paints a melody in your head,
One that echoes,
And puts you to bed.
Poetry is art.
It expresses emotions,
Deeply hidden in one’s heart.
It could create oceans,
Both with a soothing yet haunting breeze,
With soft waves and tsunamis,
That could terrify, yet please.