Words are a Force of Nature

Like a river at a stand still

Poetry is my way to comprehend
Life is unexpected and now
Nature brings death and maybe a few rain drops
Ripple away my strength
Some call it a force
Something that takes far pleasure in
The eyes hills have
Some call it magic
The way leaves spring into new colors
And rot to root and bare
I call it poetry
Because words have a healing
And a heartbeat

And they can stitch my heart better
Strangling my cause for the "how so?"s
And just maybe a wandering eye
Isn't as curious as depicted
Maybe it knows all
Like poetry a poem’s root starts with the action
To forgive the palms of those who strike them
A branch whipped at one glance
Can be seen as many a things
Poetry was my way to comprehend
Connect and sometimes smile
Cracked like the spaces in my format
When time is lost its documented refresher
May only be known as words
Speak softly and carry vigorously
And love him and her mountains
Poetry is magic
Rub it a few times and grant yourself
The freedom to express likeness
From tree to thumb
Because poetry is senseless
And making sense doesn't add to correct change

more so often then not a way to blend
Poetry is where I find space and time
In my own home and rhythm of completeness
Chaos and where my friends lie
Between a rock and a metaphor
Because poetry is a cliché
And something that is my reflective self
Poetry and I are neighbors in my mind
And somehow it's ego is far greater
Because when you get tired of playing second seat to life
Poetry is your stage name
And expression is your talent

Where the magnifying glasses can rest in sunlight

And scorch away logic and start fires that breathe imagination

But you can never have a drought
Because a river at a stand still is just a lake