Poetry Is Made Up Of Love Poem by Ana Z. M.

Poetry Is Made Up Of Love



Since I was a little girl,
I loved to write some poetry of a kind.
My inspirations were all about nature,
too young to taste life experiences.

At my thirteenth birthday,
you came to my empty life,
you fell in love with me,
and so I fell in love with you.

You made me happy,
you made me sad,
you made me smile,
you made me cry.

And for all that we went through,
almost two years of pure joy,
you were my my inspiration,
my poetry creator.

Still my poems weren't so good,
inspirational poems,
seemed to be missing something,
maybe a better muse.

Suddenly, before my fifteenth birthday,
you disappeared from my sight,
you left me far behind,
but still you were too close to my heart.

Not being able to feel you close again,
has broken my heart,
in a way i know pain won't end,
and heart won't heal.

After a long time,
I started writting again,
but i started writting with a broken heart,
a feeling I had never experienced before.

Poetry was my only escape,
my poems were all made up of feelings and thoughts.
No more additional nonsense words,
invented just to make four lines look pretty for a heart.

True poetry,
is the one made up of words that come from the bottom of your heart,
is the one that shows true feelings,
those from a heart who has the experience and wisdom to know what they feel.

And so I conclude,
poetry is made up of love,
'cause there's no feeling that touches the most,
than a true love, a heart experience.


January 8,2009
dedicated to all those who have been inspired by their own feelings, Remember: ''Poetry has no goal other than itself; and no poem will be so great, so noble, so truly worthy of the name of poem than the one written uniquely for the pleasure of writting a poem.''
-Charles Baudelaire-

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Bonnie Collins 17 January 2009

Very profound words ana.... Enjoyed this very much.. Sometimes our inspirations come from the things in life that we love so much... Also they come to us through the beauty inwhich our hearts hold.... All poetry is in the eyes of the beholder.... bonnie

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