Treasure Island

Laijon Liu

(06/27/1975 / Dalian, China)

Poetry: What Is Poetry?


Poetry pleases my ears
that words sound in harmony,
but not to a foreign tongue.

Poetry draws a picture
to invite my eyes,
but still puzzles my mind.

Poetry blows with wind,
in water He flows,
shouts in thunders,
and bounces as rock in roll.

Poetry preserves His truth,
in secret codes, simple words,
only reveals to the worthy.

Poetry sings in my ears,
dances in front my eyes,
kisses my lips,
brings fragrance,
that fills my mind
and imprints my soul.

Poetry does not like as I like
as whenever I use as like wrongly,
and it is unfair He uses
correctly all times He does,
but I make Him to like
as I do like anyway.

Poetry tells stories
to company my journey,
writes jokes
to convert my tragedy
into a comedy,
and builds a rainbow bridge
where my dream
and reality meet.

Poetry blinded Homer
with Helen and war,
afflicted Catullus
with his love and hate,
taught Beowulf
how to fight!

Poetry made Li Bai drunk
in magical words,
brought sorrows to Du Fu,
so he spoke in painful tones,
convinced Confucius
to collect His words
as his first book,
the Book of Odes.

Poetry invited Shakespeare
to our glamorous stage,
frightened us with the image
in Dante’s hell.

Poetry composed Mozart
painted Picasso,
dropped an apple on Newton,
combed Einstein’s cool hair.

Poetry introduced the Tao
in Lao Zi,
explained the Art of War
in Sun Zi,
shared His sufferings
with Buddha,
works for God
as the way He wills.

I love the poem as Jesus told,
He is the Word,
and He was a man.
He came and left,
born in the stable,
died on the cross,
resurrected in the tomb,
condemned and blessed,
received and rejected.

He is the poetry
who is an only poet.
He brings the life,
tells the truth,
and shows me the way.

Water of living,
Rock of faith,
Promise of hope,
Conqueror of love,
The Poetry is the Poet.

I see poetry on the dirt
that stained the fire fighter’s face.
I see poetry on the blood
that painted the ER angles’ white dress.
I see poetry on the gray hair
of my elementary school’s teachers.
I see poetry on my name
that reminds me a couple’s sacrifice.
I see poetry every time,
I see my love and soul mate.
And I see my poetry running around,
growing up, to be a great poem
as I always dream.

Our image mirrors
in Poetry;
Beasts roam,
birds fly
and fish swim
in Poetry.

Seeds sprout,
grass grow,
flowers blossom,
plants fruit
in Poetry.

Sun shines
in the day,
Moon and stars light
the night
in Poetry.

Ocean gathered,
earth solidifies,
and air purifies
in Poetry.

The light shines
in Poetry,
as the wind blows,
as the water flows,
the Poet composes his poem.

Submitted: Saturday, October 28, 2006
Edited: Saturday, October 30, 2010

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (Poetry: What Is Poetry? by Laijon Liu )

Enter the verification code :

Read all 1 comments »

Top Poems

  1. Phenomenal Woman
    Maya Angelou
  2. The Road Not Taken
    Robert Frost
  3. If You Forget Me
    Pablo Neruda
  4. Still I Rise
    Maya Angelou
  5. Dreams
    Langston Hughes
  6. Annabel Lee
    Edgar Allan Poe
  7. If
    Rudyard Kipling
  8. A Dream Within A Dream
    Edgar Allan Poe
  9. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
    Robert Frost
  10. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
    Maya Angelou

PoemHunter.com Updates

New Poems

  1. Lead Feather, Joshua Riles
  2. For Just Tonight, Susan Lacovara
  3. My Love, Col Muhamad Khalid Khan
  4. Mahua tree, gajanan mishra
  5. Why Are You So 'Nasty'?, Lawrence S. Pertillar
  6. Elegy For Whitney, michael walker
  7. This Poet's Playground, Susan Lacovara
  8. LIFE OF THE AFRICAN CHILDREN, Great Emeritus
  9. Joy, Ashutosh ramnarayan Prasad K ..
  10. The mason's daughter, Maheshwer Peri

Poem of the Day

poet Helen Hunt Jackson

The month of carnival of all the year,
When Nature lets the wild earth go its way,
And spend whole seasons on a single day.
The spring-time holds her white and purple dear;
...... Read complete »

   
[Hata Bildir]