There's a haste to poetry
A hurry, catch me by the fingertips Lead me down into the depths Of the ocean kind of thing There's a fervor to poetry A groping, gasping, heaving Take me by the throat And never leave me kind of thing An abstract thing That can't be explored deep enough A just can't be ignored thing That can't be explained well enough To make anyone understand Who isn't meant to understand There's a haste to poetry A gotta write it down as it comes Or this fleeting feeling may never feel Real kind of thing There's a fervor to poetry A passion on the tip of your tongue Rolling down your throat as you Taste my soul kind of thing
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AuthorStory fanatic. Published in the Camosun College literary journal Beside the Point. Former Senior Staff Writer at The Martlet. Current and future freelance writer. Archives
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