So many have their own ideas
Of what real poetry it should be
Ever since time began it seems
Their poetic thought feel free
I tend to think poetry is in life
The very thoughts of the soul
So long ago and never changed
Since first days ever so very old
Times have changed humans too
Destroyed six times this our earth
Some signs of this to date remain
Each time a civilization of worth
All of the one's before few know all
They too a poetic word most knew
I well should imagine this to be so
Of the time then lived in ever true
We today write of dreams feelings
Each soul of whatever comes to mind
And place it out there for all to read
Of love ,fears of life easy thus to find
All feel they know what poetry it is
And it well may be so to them true
So many different kinds poetic minds
I explain my life to myself poeticly too
Not one soul from oldest days of old
Can tell what poetry is to every other
Or in life good times or days of strife
Of happiness grief and more so mother