A Poem Begins As A Lump In The Throat

I think it was Robert Frost who said, “A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness.” And then I would like to believe that after awhile it transforms, changes, molds you, together with the words, until there is nothing left but your hands, holding “emptiness, wholeness; a cave, a cathedral.” (B.H. Fairchild)

Yes!  my heart is driving along the roads of poetry

Not because of insane love or lovesickness

It consoles the depths of my soul

Finds me and makes me a little whole

It’s keeping my mute brain alive

Am learning to thrive

Despite the aches and strive

My soul is damningly religiously dancing with fire

Crafting simple words lets the pouring down my spirit demands

The illusion of my future 

Doesn’t seem so hard

Its beauty expresses my strangest emotions

And let’s me believe Frank O’Hara 

Is cajoling me to Have a coke with him (link poem here.)

And mesmerized with power 

As Alicia keys warns me to fear poets (link poem here)

Did you know Arcihbald defined poetry with a poem

 He said,

"A poem should be palpable and mute

As a globed fruit...

A poem should be wordless

As flight of birds...

A peom should not be mean

But be."

Poetry refines, defines, edifies and never confines

It breathes, relieves, and adds a little belief

Yes am dancing in poetry's fire

Hoping you can see my desire

For poetic life. 

Hi everyone, am exploring poetry, it is suddenly fascinating me. Will start the Haiku challenge soon. Feel free to leave your comments: Good, Bad, Okay, Excellent or...?