What Poetry Is (by Amiah Hanson)
Wonders expressed in a fountain of words,
Inked dreams spiraling across the paper.
Wings soaring, gliding across mountains of wishes.
Burning as bright as the summer sun,
Explaining life in an abundance of meanings,
Pure as a pool brushed by a unicorn.
Where you seek answers, you’ll find many
All in simple speech.
Underestimated, words of power
But can be as soft as a caress from a sea breeze.
Unrestrained, taking you to heights
that only an opened heart can go to.
Docilely accepting a hand
And gripping it hard to take it
Places no one’s ever been,
Untouched, a separate reality
As like to imagination as
Wishes are to dreams.
All it is composed of
Is simply wonder at the reality around it.
Taking many forms as it drifts upon
Your scope of vision, your pinprick world,
seeing through your eyes around
At the Earth seeking for a difference to be made.
It will run as far as you take it,
An endless race against the darkness,
Bringing despair, light, or a humorous tone
To guide every small hand.
Words filled with strength, leading
A broken heart to become anew.
Divulging your deepest secrets in a secret way.
The words simply appear, after a moment
Wondering how you wrote something
So infinite in meaning.
A simple, pure melody of a heart song.
A little window of light shining in the midst of all the tinted others.
Buried under layers of concern,
Dreams, wonders, hurts
There it comes out just so,
On a relenting piece of paper, but something more.
The eye of the storm,
It will let you fly in freedom.
Poetry is a living dream.