Poetry Poem by Bill Cantrell

What is poetry?
We are a mouse,
wandering aimlessly,
seeking passage through its maze
Yes, a labyrinth of much more than words 

Under a verse, 
there are layers of many seasons 

Precious buried treasures 

Love letters incognito, 

in tune to the strings of a kindred spirit

Thoughts birthing the next stanza 

The beauty of poetry is, 
we need not to understand her words, 

one is in want to feel embraced

for poetry must have mystery, 

but at the same time, 
we need to feel it breathing in our ear

Holding our face to its, 

eye contact confirms each other's wants 

Yes, poetry is indeed intriguing,
and hot

Its meter is not for the unsteady

It's metaphor is not mere slapstick shadows in the third verse,
It is deep and holds us once we peer into its eyes 

Yes, corridors leading to many rooms and beds 

Indeed, 

much more than words