On Poetry
I’ve not given it much thought, but Poetry ought
To be something which interests me more.
It’s a way to explore my love of form
And language and all, but not before
My need for meaning and sense and…
- I’m straying there now, and I do
Like it though, I don’t know -
…perhaps I could make it
Work, or play
But either way
I’ve not given it much thought, but Poetry ought
To be something which interests me more.
How might I bring myself to explore
The meaning underneath it all?
Not hiding away or shying away
From facing things as they are
Because there are
No rules, or rhythms
In life or its many victims
So write! And share your inner vision
Of how things are and what’s within
In case no one has really seen
The way things are or how they’ve been
Sometimes it takes someone like you
To break through and speak the truth
In pretty - though often broken - rhymes
In order to make sense of the times.
I’ve not given it much thought, but Poetry ought
To be something which interests me more.
