a writer of prose
gathers his words around him like an arsenal
strategically placing all about
surrounded you with intense imagery
striking the senses from the outside in
intent on bringing you into the scene of events
like an opponent who works to anticipate offenses
making meaning in order to walk away from the battle
better for being a part of it
a writer of poetry
chooses his words like the feathers an arrow
strategically creating the perfect balance
allowing it to pierce the air with ease
striking you straight through the heart
the mind
the soul
the poisoned tip assaulting you from the inside out
like an enemy coursing through your blood stream
penetrating your defenses before you know what hit you
no matter the weapon the writer chooses
should his aim be true
he'll bring you to your knees
breathless
with the beauty he ignites
or
the darkness he inflicts
dVerse~Poets Pub presents Meeting the Bar: Critique and Craft this evening. in doing so, they have asked us to write about poetry. i wasn't sure i was going to join in the fun, but while driving home (as is often where my brain kicks into gear) my brain began to travel back to this pondering of poetry. i'm not particularly fond of writing poetry while driving...trying to remember the way the words fit so perfectly in your head when finally being able to sit with pencil and paper or fingers and keyboard is not the easiest of things to do. i lost the word ignite (used in the third to last line) for quite some time while driving along. eventually it popped back into my head at which point i had to repeat it over and over again in my head with 'inflict' so i'd remember them when i finally made it home. anyway, time is running out so i best be on my way to the pub before they make last call.
woo hoo this is hot...love it..and so true...when weilded well the weapons of word smithing can surely rend you asunder...esp like the second stanza...glad you made it!
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