What makes you poetry? Let me know in the comments section below. Enjoy!


Hold a paw, and wake up to the woof or the meow of a furry cushion.
Travel, to the closest grocery store open past midnight and buy that candy you used to love as a kid.
Feel.
Let your chapped lips, which has been a Chandler (Straight, but seemed to be otherwise), light up into a crescent moon more often than you used to.
Cry into the lap of your pillow, don’t deprive your cheeks of the season of this rain.
Pick the scab on the wound you got as a hopeless romantic, and fall in love before it heals.
Realize that you have rhyme and reason in this universe.
Find the fire of your soul and let it burn your regrets as it crackles a song into your veins.
Show kindness as a first language in your degree of life. Water a plant and feed a duck for you never know what they’ll do to you in a parallel universe.
Be you.


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13 Comments

  1. Sailing in the troubled waters of my mind, loving how imperfect I am, talking to nature and being lunatic makes me a poetry which doesn’t rhyme.

  2. Choose feeling above all because that is what mayyers
    Always be in love, it is your nector and also your sting
    Multiply words into narratibes and then summarise worlds in lines
    Write your soul away and dance to strange music.
    Aleays be in love and love more than one.

  3. Hmm…Poetry, allright I’ll try

    I gazed upon a tabby, chubby Feline
    How exciting he devoured his prey.

    Rule of the jungle has hardened him
    From sickly fragile innocent little kitten
    Has become vicious, cold beast.

    Oh the vibration, is it fear?
    Excitement?
    Or Honor?

  4. I really liked your way of touching upon people being poetry in themselves, and having fiery rhythms inside us. Your use of metaphors is so accurate for this, because it creates a unique imagery and takes the reader into the story, or journey, of finding him/herself. Thank you for writing this, can’t wait for more.

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