Poetry; An Outlook Into The World Unknown.

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I can't help but agree more to what someone once told me, "don't give a Writer reasons to have anything on you else, you'll end up seeing your name in their next published book". And I think to a very large extent,this is somewhat applicable to Poet/Poetry.
Growing up as a child in a family that upholds a belief of education is the way to every ways, my leisure time were more like an another round of lecture time. My head is usually knead to old dog- ear poet books laying rent free in dad's library shelf. All thanks to my uncle,who had the aspiration of becoming a Judge.( He's now one though).
Truth be told, sometimes I felt lost in another world while reading them likewise, couple of times I felt lost in the choice of difficult words used in these books either ways, it felt all good.

What is Poetry?

     Poetry can be described as the expression of imaginary thoughts, fantasies, hidden emotions and  experiences in written rhythmic words usually in lines and verses. Poetry can be likened to be as a time travel machine that take one back and forth to the ethereal realms. Poetry provides an umbrella for all bottled emotions and feelings.

It is the voice for the voiceless,
a face for the faceless

• a place where all imaginations, emotions, feelings, happy or sad experiences find a home*
  I would have loved to go on and on but time is nobody's mate, that's how fond of poetic world I am. My love for it grew on me and changed me from an ordinary lover of poem to a writer of one, two, three ......... poem, and now have lost count.
  However, I wouldn't give all of the credit to myself, there are authors of poetic books that contributed to this growth,they are John Newton and The Great Williams Shakespeare. The literary works of Shakespeare know my soft spot especially the one titled,Shall I compare thee to a Summer day?

Here's one of the most recent poem I sometimes ago wrote titled, BREATH

Absorbed in self guilt and fear,
that paralyzed the vigour to keep the banner high
thoughts of how foul i played myself tripped me off
Off i went,landing on the cold hard floor.
In distraught i screamed, renting my garment into shreds,
I casted lots on the remains, a piece of me felt maimed as i gazed at the readings of my chances of survival.
How faulty could i have been? Unlucky me! still faulty at forty.

I had it all planned out but this? Played a fast one on me,
the tides flowed at a different course this time
here i am at the bank of the river, tied me to a well knotted, knitted unpredicted predicament*
howbeit, the deed has been done. Can i undo it? I desperately wished i could. The knife has cut a child, she then threw it away out of spite
does that change the fact, she now has a wound to nurse?

Should i just wallow in my pains, that should at least pays a chump change of relief to live at the moment.
However, forever is far too long, at times too short and most times not promised to be a dependant on such momentary oasis.

Hewn and crushed down yet they rushed back to their feet,
with a little soil,watering and weeding,they’re everywhere again
with a good amount of fertilizer down their roots,they mount and grow fat and fine
now they’re rooted and can’t be rooted by anyone*
they wag their branches whenever the wind whacks at them
they've successfully get an hack of the situation
and wouldn't ask for too much other than to grow
the rain that put the cats and dogs on their heels
heeds to them after hearing what became of the wind*
they're at peace,they found ease after all
they found a way to breathe again.
Why not find your’s?

Look beyond it all and breathe!

© Medemausi

The other picture is mine.

This is my entry for #Juneinleo day 7.
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