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Poems are not those words
arranged in verses and stanzas,
hurrying to be in chapbooks, collections and anthologies
even this life is more poem than poetry
Poems are depth-less deep thoughts
breaking those traditional stanzas and verses,
hidden yet published hard and soft in our minds, poetry is
that stubborn idea at night; dogged street lights
in shanty streets that refuse to go out.
Poems are not those compressed words, carefully
selected, carefully sieved to match our conventions. Poetry are those free
lines, unselected, unedited, free fresh wounds we fork with our fingers,
undisturbed by our methylated spirits
Poetry is a monk in a bar, a nun in a chalet. Poetry
is not poetry until it breaks the writer, until the
writer lose himself in the lines of his thoughts
A stubborn beer that breaks the mug
Poems are not just sentence with rhymes, or
sentence without rhythm. Poetry is every rhyme
in our shattered thoughts. Poetry is the rhyme
in our blank ideas forming music. Music
for our brain, pictures for our weird imaginations, a music
that sends the future to the present, and the past to the present.
Poetry is darkness that refused to be dark
Poems are not words written, lines
consciously organized with sane minds. Poems are
words and lines madly built, words without letters, words
written in the heart of readers after every glance. They are the magnet that draws every
eye back to our scattered lines. Poetry is nothingness in every first reading.
It is the last reading that never comes
About the author
Ibeto Arinze Emmanuel obtained his BAand MA in English and Literary Studies from Imo State University and Universityof Ibadan in Nigeria. His works focus on sex, religion and the nature of writing.He lives in Onitsha.
Ibeto Arinze Emmanuel obtained his BA and MA in English and Literary Studies from Imo State University and University of Ibadan in Nigeria. His works focus on sex, religion and the nature of writing. He lives in Onitsha.
“Poetry is music for our brain and pictures for our weird imaginations….”
It felt like I was in a poetry performance.
I love the poem. It’s a poem in itself.
It kinda fits a prosaic poem.
Nice one Ibeto.
I lack the words to drop in this box… For I am Overwhelmed by each line, each verse, it is a poem studded with creativity ….