One last poem from my creative writing class. I was feeling a bit overwhelmed by the prospect of writing poetry, since it’s the type of storytelling I’m least experienced with.
How does one compress their creativity,
Convey stories of sunsets and starscapes and suffering,
In succinct stanzas?
To adequately address the axiomatic truths,
Uncover the answers to the anagrams presented by society,
I’d need a thousand pages;
Profound poets across history, however,
Could engage the imagination with exquisite eloquence
In as few as six words.
Poems that breathe life into their readers;
Verses that playfully dance through your mind
Hours, days, and even years after being read;
These things have always existed far beyond
My realm of capability.
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