What I love about poetry…

It never dies, it stays in the clouds until one day, it rains down, someone finds it and hopefully smiles.
With kindest words they fill a joy that is felt like sunshine and warm apple pie-ala mode, oh my!

Screaming out with verbs that rhyme creating phrases to pull you in, to hold you tight, to fight.
Describing a moment, yes with pain but to show how courage could change this world filled with hate, oh my!

Is poetry, love? or Is love, poetry? two questions asked in sonnets and songs recited in flowing lyrics.
Both the same in a way, how every line tries to capture curves so sublime, intoxicates the mind, oh my!

Poetry turns on what aches down below where sex stirs and wakes but knows, the real thing rules.
Words could never express the true feeling of sex when thrown into lust because love wins when hot and it’s real, oh my!

Poetry will never die, as long as life continues to thrive, breathing in, out, with a loving heart.
What I love about poetry is that I get to write merde like this, and hope it makes you smile inside, oh my!


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