Each of us has many unwritten poems in our lives. Those poems are important to some lives. These written poems are only symbolic pictures of life experiences and memories. I have tried to write the things inside my heart in the poem’s rhythm and the shape of the face. All these poems are images experienced, beautiful colors seen, tangible and abstract sounds that touch the heart.
I play the flute. Poems are played to the tune of the flute. I play the violin, and even the strings of the violin emit the melody of poetry. At twilight, the birds sing a poem. Poetry blooms in their lives too. There is a different joy in being poetic.
Human life is beautiful, perhaps only the beginning and the end. Every second of life begets a poem. We all have those beautiful moments in our lives. These thoughts come to mind in the form of poetry. I don’t know if it came as a poem or not.
The feeling that whatever happens in life, wanted to happen, is yet to happen, and can never happen comes from poetry. When writing those words, sometimes the thoughts run away. All words come and go with life. When I look for that life, I get lost. This is a fun game between me and the words. I always lose the game, but I enjoy it. Winning is not as much fun as losing.
The day I live, I die. The day I die, I will live. Those who try to live, die. The meaning of life becomes clear after death. It may be too late. Still, poetry is born.
I can do anything in life, but sometimes I just can’t. Then a poem is written. If there is a double success, it becomes a poem. Love leaves, and poetry becomes love. Life becomes love, and love becomes poetry. This poem slowly came to mind. Sometimes, it came out crying and sometimes laughing, sometimes with speed, and then, the speed drops. While doing this, a poem came to life.