Rhythm of His Song.

Poetry is enchained by its own freedom.

By its need it transgresses laws and boundaries.

It gives way to innovation and invention; for the unrest

To get away with mediocrity and cliché tic expressions.

Poetry indeed is an indispensable need; for it creates,

And after all, it is a Creator’s Child of Creation.

It is limitless, unbound and almost without inhibition.

Poetry primarily is about 
rhythm and rhyme,

That must have substance for sustenance.

It must have volume, 
foresight, and purpose;

It must have a will, and sense of direction;

As Sages are not just wise but also poetic;

And The Road to Heaven 
is sound and rhythmic;

Poetry is a learned line 
in harmony with time.

With answer, Poetry asks questions;

With knowledge, it seeks wisdom;

With care, it plays with anger and wrath;

As the wise, for the sake of probity,

Hides and camouflages in ignorance,

In order to go down low to be understood

By the least, by the lowly, and benight.

Today, someone called a man a real poet.

As if there is real and unreal in “Rhyme’s Realm”.

If you would ask me what would be my reply

If called with such a brand; maybe

I will smile and say “thank you, I am

Simply doing this for Someone’s delight”.

For who is a poet and who is not?

Honestly, I never put myself at liberty to tell.

Poetry and love are based on freedom;

And arrogance is a thief that claims

Everything that he owns not.

A certain line will not truly rhyme

If it’s not an empowered line; And

I could be but one of the many pens

In the pen of The Creator of Rhyme.

(If indeed I was allowed to be)

All my efforts are simply

Faulty works in progress,

Which are not really mine.

Fire is insight and water is love;

Poetry is the air that agitates both.

When it’s time to burn and to dissolve

What was created by the most poetic Word;

Poetry will be there in the lips of the Lord.

Definitely, He will be there in the end.

And when the drumbeat begins,

Its rhyme will be in tune with

The rhythm of his song?

Poetry is blameless

because it has excuses;

Beat is a force that makes us forget.

Time travels in rhythmical pattern;

Advancement is a synonym of change.

Pulsation can shapes views into

nothing or into everything.

Cadence is a harmonic progression

that flow to amend the opinions,

beliefs and views of the mind.

Nothing is real, with a limited vision

that can only perceives the temporary

and irrelevant unsubstantial substance:

Hope is a dream that resides

in a far away land.

Lastly...

POETS ain’t poeTIC

if words don’t TIC,