If It Was Not For Poetry Poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

If it was not for poetry,
Would 'thou' be left to live with less art?
Would the meaning and significance,
Of forget-me-nots...
Be just words quibbled to dribble,
From an opened mouth.
Without them flaunted with flair.
Dropped to be forgotten like a rock,
Rolling away never to gather upon it moss.

If it was not for poetry,
Would hearts entwine on vines of verse?
With a leaving of a sweetened taste kept to thirst?
Or would an 'ode' unfolding mystery and suspense,
Keep one wanting to be haunted and even cursed...
If the doing is meant to sustain intrigue and desire,
Yearning to heat embers to glow and ooze...
From every pore no one ignores.
Or can not refuse but submit.

If...
It was not for poetry,
Would the wish to kiss lips of someone missed...
Be depicted as a craving,
Like none other one has wished with such passion.
Or with a depth kept to keep,
The Sun and its heat driven into madness.
If...
It was not for poetry.