Your Poetry Dot Com - The Subtle Nature of Poetry

Array ( [sid] => 181921 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => The Subtle Nature of Poetry [time] => 2015-10-06 05:58:22 [hometext] => Been inspired by Walt Whitman's ''Leaves of Grass'' the last couple days. [bodytext] => With every written word and expressed thought,
There thus lie in the void of space and time,
Thousands much akin and like them,
Butchered by the cruel hands of reality
The tomes of our dictionaries, these thoughts
Could fill them and generate equal number of pages more

The thought of greener grass growing ever out of sight,
A dilemma not worthy of consideration, for great reason
For what's important, hue or solid shape?
Without the shape and blade-like form,
What have you, but a puddle of green pooling?
Just as important as the yellow in your amber waves of grain

And so these thoughts are shared and read,
A thousand that are equally profound now are dead
Share them I would, I could, I should, and somehow will,
For these thoughts are something powerful,
Ultimate in color, shape, size, and entirety of form
When they are observed, what wonder they enact!

When you read these words, do they not cause?
Do they not touch the chemical status of your mind?
Of your body, your being, and even your soul in kind?
This is what each of us does, mold one another
We are the shapers of ourselves, and all others
In us lies the God to which we pray, and seek to meet [comments] => 1 [counter] => 84 [topic] => 43 [informant] => xHeathenx [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => oops ) Your Poetry Dot Com - The Subtle Nature of Poetry

The Subtle Nature of Poetry
Date: Tuesday, 6th October 2015 @ 05:58:22 AM AEST
Topic: Sad Poetry

Contributed By: xHeathenx

With every written word and expressed thought,
There thus lie in the void of space and time,
Thousands much akin and like them,
Butchered by the cruel hands of reality
The tomes of our dictionaries, these thoughts
Could fill them and generate equal number of pages more

The thought of greener grass growing ever out of sight,
A dilemma not worthy of consideration, for great reason
For what's important, hue or solid shape?
Without the shape and blade-like form,
What have you, but a puddle of green pooling?
Just as important as the yellow in your amber waves of grain

And so these thoughts are shared and read,
A thousand that are equally profound now are dead
Share them I would, I could, I should, and somehow will,
For these thoughts are something powerful,
Ultimate in color, shape, size, and entirety of form
When they are observed, what wonder they enact!

When you read these words, do they not cause?
Do they not touch the chemical status of your mind?
Of your body, your being, and even your soul in kind?
This is what each of us does, mold one another
We are the shapers of ourselves, and all others
In us lies the God to which we pray, and seek to meet

This poem is Copyright © xHeathenx

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