deepundergroundpoetry.com
If You Believe
If you believe that poetry is dead and gone,
Then try to bury each poet one by one,
I doubt you'd find a land to fit us all,
For even you are one, though words may often fall.
Your feelings speak, far from ears yet somehow near,
Unseen but living, never to disappear.
If you believe my words are aged and worn,
Then press them into vinyl, let them mourn,
And I shall dwell on each and every tone,
For if you hear the dulcet heavens’ own,
You, dear one, would not dare to silence swift
The words you spoke with reckless, careless drift.
If you believe I yearn too much for rhyme,
Then know not all can tread the dance in time.
With vowels and consonants they dare not play,
For fear they’ll err and cause their feet to sway,
Like those who, in their quest to master waltz,
Trip over steps and mourn their many faults.
If you believe I linger in the days of yore,
Living on words by Bard and Eliot’s lore,
Then place me in an hourglass to hold
Each grain of time, like treasures made of gold.
I do not wish to run by your watch’s pace,
And if you can’t, then paint me in a space
With brushes wielded by those wiser men,
Who saw not folly as you see it then.
If you believe my writing holds no sense,
Then, dear, your words too lack significance.
If you think I’m too grand with shades of green,
Or late to tell of trees, or snowflakes keen,
Then sadly know, your heart has lost its fire,
And your spirit wanders, worn and dire.
So if you believe that poetry is dead,
Maybe it’s your soul, from life long fled,
Seeing itself in joy and life anew,
A silent echo of what once was true.
Then try to bury each poet one by one,
I doubt you'd find a land to fit us all,
For even you are one, though words may often fall.
Your feelings speak, far from ears yet somehow near,
Unseen but living, never to disappear.
If you believe my words are aged and worn,
Then press them into vinyl, let them mourn,
And I shall dwell on each and every tone,
For if you hear the dulcet heavens’ own,
You, dear one, would not dare to silence swift
The words you spoke with reckless, careless drift.
If you believe I yearn too much for rhyme,
Then know not all can tread the dance in time.
With vowels and consonants they dare not play,
For fear they’ll err and cause their feet to sway,
Like those who, in their quest to master waltz,
Trip over steps and mourn their many faults.
If you believe I linger in the days of yore,
Living on words by Bard and Eliot’s lore,
Then place me in an hourglass to hold
Each grain of time, like treasures made of gold.
I do not wish to run by your watch’s pace,
And if you can’t, then paint me in a space
With brushes wielded by those wiser men,
Who saw not folly as you see it then.
If you believe my writing holds no sense,
Then, dear, your words too lack significance.
If you think I’m too grand with shades of green,
Or late to tell of trees, or snowflakes keen,
Then sadly know, your heart has lost its fire,
And your spirit wanders, worn and dire.
So if you believe that poetry is dead,
Maybe it’s your soul, from life long fled,
Seeing itself in joy and life anew,
A silent echo of what once was true.
Published 18th Jun 2024
Author's Note
I've heard some folks grumbling about classic poetry, criticizing the words we choose, and the meter and rhyme that, to them, seem extravagant and purposeless. They claim true poetry lies solely in the message and shouldn't be adorned with what they deem banal artistic flourishes. Well, I must say, those dear souls have rather missed the point of poetry, confusing it quite dreadfully with mere written reflections. But fret not, I shall let poetry speak for itself. Offense is not my aim, but how I wish others would cease troubling our beloved poets so!
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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The author encourages honest critique.
19th Jun 2024 2:24am
You have very good meter and rhyme to your writes. But that's just the mathematics. What message a reader can get from it, and be inspired by, is the second worth. You succeed there as well.
Really polished writes you've shared. Welcome to DUP.
Really polished writes you've shared. Welcome to DUP.
Anonymous
19th Jun 2024 9:53am
Hello there
I have a complicated relationship with classic poetry. While there’s a huge part of me that wants to be modern and relevant, there’s another part of me that reads pieces like yours here in that classic style and swoons a little bit. Because it was amazing.
I think there is much value to be found in the classic poets. I mean nobody read Shakespeare and didn’t think it was beautiful in part.
There’s a lot of wisdom imparted in your words here. Thank you for sharing it.
-M
I have a complicated relationship with classic poetry. While there’s a huge part of me that wants to be modern and relevant, there’s another part of me that reads pieces like yours here in that classic style and swoons a little bit. Because it was amazing.
I think there is much value to be found in the classic poets. I mean nobody read Shakespeare and didn’t think it was beautiful in part.
There’s a lot of wisdom imparted in your words here. Thank you for sharing it.
-M
Anonymous
- Edited 18th Sep 2024 8:45am
19th Jun 2024 7:54pm
<< post removed >>
2nd Jul 2024 7:53pm
Poetry is a moment in time, a word that rings in your head. Poetry is curiosity, something said. One does not need to defend one's thoughts—great writing and welcome.
