Poetry’s the music
that was playing in my heart
right at the beginning
of the ending from the start–
long, cascading verses
to express a single thought,
freely given secrets for which,
once, I would have fought–
philosophizing, prophesizing,
boldly telling lies,
romantic inspirations
wrapped in wishes sealed with sighs–
memories of miseries,
imaginary love,
wanderings and wonderings
and magic from above–
prejudices, urgent kisses,
honesty and myth,
pain and pretty, joy and ugly
whipped until they’re stiff.
Poetry is equal parts of joy
and primal fears,
half completed verses
seen through veils of poets tears–
brightly painted shadows
from the dungeon known as me,
imaginary imagery
that’s absolutely free.
