Ars

Here is my series so far on Poetry and its different aspects as I see them..

Poetica I
- Andrew Williams

Poetry is a young child,
doing only what told not to.
In a library -- joyous tantrums,
throwing grammar books to the floor.
In a black and white world,
poetry prances around in red pants.

Poetica II
- Andrew Williams

Poetry is a masterpiece,
framed only by the mind of the creator.
Stand back to see it;
squint, peer, gesticulate or sit in awe.
Bask in it's splendor.
Each moment holds newfound glory.

Poetica III
- Andrew Williams

Poetry is a color-by-numbers
brushed by a blind man.
Pigments and lines, swirls and swoops,
the picture that should be there becomes anew.
Form and pattern, a small concern.
Emotion drives the brush; poetry yearns.

Poetica IV
- Andrew Williams

Poetry is a newborn giraffe,
recently landed onto life.
Curiosity and will overcome unsteady legs,
wary steps and frequent falls become unknown.
Poetry, with prickling ears,
lifts her head to greet the world.

Poetica V
- Andrew Williams

Poetry is my favorite grandmother,
always ready with fresh cookies and sweets,
always bringing new delight,
always having things "just right,"
always has and always will,
poetry whispers, "take your fill."

Poetica VI
- Andrew Williams

Poetry is a brand new friend
met while strolling in the park.
Salutations and formalities completed:
now to know this new bloke.
Learn his secrets
over coffee and bagels.

Poetica VII
- Andrew Williams

Poetry is the family rocking chair,
an heirloom to Some, junk to Others.
Some say character, Others say damage.
Poetry holds both with love.
Some see cherished memories, old and new,
Others just see termites.