What is Poetry to Me?

In a world where people try to make things black and white, thinking so small about what this life can bring to you and what happiness can truly come from it, poetry is that never ending rainbow that brings strong emotion to my days, filling my world with color. I can’t go minutes throughout the day without holding the tears back because the joy and power that this gives me! This feeling, can you feel it? And if you can’t, then can you see it or hear it? This is just so real to me. Poetry lets me escape and it could care less whether I go hiding for days or months, because it never gives up on me. Random words float beside me as I go through my days, attaching themselves to my brain until we can meet again. Making mental notes of each verb that wants to be replaced and the nouns that lack background so I must recreate. Sometimes running towards desperate measures to get some seconds of alone time with it. I don’t have to search for it, I keep it right near my heart. Easy access in my mind, I sometimes get a bit selfish because it never lets me neglect it. It will beat down my walls, completely screw up my insides until I come crawling back. If I stray too far away then my sanity will get off track. Metaphors, quotes, and phrases are deeply rooted in me.


It is my freedom. It is my expression. When I can speak the words just as they flow out of my soul and onto the page. Where I can combine all my life’s hurt into just a matter of days. Where isolation gets the best of me showing nothing but support and understanding. The pages won’t ever judge because they read my potential daily. I can pour out my heart without feeling stupid and used. I am in love with words and the way they can be rearranged on a page to heal. We can talk for hours and it never gets tired of me. That’s my poetry. Telling friends I can’t stay out long because I have to get home and unwind. Oh, that’s my poetry. It rescues me when the tears make the pages too soggy and the notebook collapses or my burdens are bearing down too hard on my pen. Eager to let me in with open arms and I surrender each time because it can see through me clearly. I can be completely myself. No cover ups, pretending to be something or someone that I’ll never be. When I’m sad and hurt the ink bleeds with me. We become undivided, united, coherent and it’s plain to see that we are connected. To me, this is a marriage and it will never leave nor betray me. Love. Poetry. This is only a 1/10 of what it means to me.

Copyright 2012 Ta’Mesha Smith


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