Ars poetica in Shots

A poem begins where the mouth hesitates. 

When words betray you,

and tears are not enough. It’s the corner of the world that listens back,

no need to shout or make yourself be understood. 

It’s the music of the heart and the rhythm of the mind.

The way it takes the feelings deeply rooted and how it shows a sliver of yourself. What if you don’t?

What if you think poetry doesn’t listen back, isn’t born on the page,

not enough to save you, 

not there, not real.

What better way to bottle everything up, and never write.

Poetry is a gift few save, some find and none forget.