Music in the Words

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I have a thing to say that has been weighing on my mind—

My apologies to all who disagree,

But something has been happening in literature of late

And it has been a painful thing to see.

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I feel the need to clarify, to make a stark distinction

‘Cause I’ve noticed that this line has gotten blurred;

But there’s still one thing that separates the Poetry from Prose:

Poetry has Music in its words.

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This Music isn’t only in the rhyming;

That is just the most apparent kind.

Not all things that rhyme are really poetry, after all,

And poetry doesn’t always have to rhyme.

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The Music can appear in any one of several forms:

You can find it in the rythm and the meter,

Or in the way the consonants flow from sound to sound,

Or even in the art of the idea:

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The symbolism goes in its multilayered flows

Cascading through the lines like gentle rapids,

Creating symmetry as each image in the mind

Parallels with the one that overlaps it.

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Even repetition has some music in it;

It’s all about the patterns that emerge.

If you’re going to call it “poetry,” it needs to be poetic—

There needs to be some Music in the words.

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Poetry isn’t Prose with random line breaks;

And Poetry’s not a cold devotion to form.

Though people often try to pass these off as poetry,

To qualify, there must be something more…

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It’s a weighty thing, dear heart, to be a poet.

We’ve a duty, and it mustn’t be obscured:

To free the vital Beauty that is trapped within a topic

—To sing the natural Music in the words.

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Yes as poets we all have a solemn duty

To teach what can’t be taught, but only learned;

To inject the Truth by peircing them with Beauty

—To sing the natural Music in the words.