Poetry vs. Imagery

Deny it! Please do!

I’m waiting for you

To tell me that I

Can’t write poetry

Because I don’t use

(because I don’t choose)

Images, pictures –

Colorful fixtures.

Because I won’t write

Of blood in the night;

Or roses and lilies,

The mind-numbing sillies

Like boiling tears falling

And broken souls calling

And sights so appalling –

Is this poetry?

No, it is not

For poems are thought

And thought does not need

To tremble and bleed

And paint and draw

Nor shriek, nor claw

In anger and sorrow

The wounds of tomorrow.

But force down my throat

The pictures that bloat

All ‘poetry’ ‘till

The blood does spill

And you’ve nothing left

But clamorous breath.

Is this poetry?

No, it is madness

That swallows all gladness

To acid and reduce,

Until it is refuse,

The true poet’s nature.

Give me one more picture

And I’ll go insane.

They’ve carved in my brain

The word “Imagery”

Yet I was so free!

Before this cursed law

Deprived me of all

My poetry’s joy.

If this can destroy

And cause me to lose

My once beloved Muse

‘Tis not poetry.