These words that I grave over don't just tell a story.

They describe my emotions.

These words that I think about don't just describe a scene.

They color my surroundings.

These words that I scribble down don't just make a picture.

They transcend limitations.

These words that I press on for don't just describe myself.

They tell of everyone's pain.

It is not made for all,

But all can appreciate at least a single bite,

Couplets sprinkled over hearty, crisp vocabulary,

Paired with a light emotional vinaigrette,

And most importantly,

It comes in many sizes,

To fit your consumption need.

The words we speak

the sights we see

the things we feel

and the knees on which we kneel

whether it be a god(s) we praise

living a few more days

or sharing our life with another

poetry is eye opening

and the sight of a new baby brother

whether it be the clouds in the sky

the knots we may tie

poetry is and will always be

something for him

something for her

something for you

everything to me.

the craft of words

in shorthand

or long songs

with pace and beat

melody subtracted

a deluge of experience

described succinctly

Dripping,

Dropping,

The words trickle out of their eyes, ears, nose and mouth;

A plethora of imaginative scenarios, the world in every shade of every color described in it's own unique way.

Some are painful like thorns on a lovely rose bush,

Others joyful like the laugh of a child,

Still there are more with varying emotionalities and stories buried below their syllables.

All the worlds thoughts put into riddles & rhyme.