Empty Poetry Poem by Lovita Morang

How to restructure the Empty Poetry

Poetry too, O, defaulter is an empty flower vase,
Sound found in much adorable odds,
An ode by a poets; in a new templates, as temple's nurse;
to twinkling things known unknown running codes.

Sometimes, poetry is non-functional, a muted radio song,
In a speeding vehicle, stranded in traffic for long;

Waits furloung like indebted to firm faiths,
longing to replay the missed words, waddle furlong,
Lost worlds, people talking of end,
how things end, that belonged to residual resurrection,
a makeshift mindshift interactive,

In the meandering vapour,
Tea, in the broken cup, devour;
Lips do slip, sip deep but gulp, savour,
lick dry that saccharine taste of soul's food;
Poetry is also the living tree,
growing out of thousand years in glee out of old dead wood.

Trees unveil its 5: 45 schemes without leaves,
Leaves behind nothing; protecting its evergreening
Gathering the tactile touch,
Lumbert lights of delightful things

What else, yes like a painting of waltz on wall,
A poetry on things like a passionate poet's hunger crawl;
Hunger, like a clamour, that is pity, pretty way to rekindled hunger,
Like the hungry river swallowing the swallon water.
Flowing above danger level, harness the hardest,
Inundated well of wellness
Yet,
Poetry is hungry,
Poetry is empty.

-Lovita J R Morang