Poetry, A Language Within A Language Within A Language! - Poem by Pithy Marvel
A language within a language within a language.
I am very new to this poetry gig,
but I perhaps,
have deciphered something big.
This poetic language that we all like,
is more than words,
what gives it spike?
We take language and throw in culture and intellect,
a baby pops out and, a new language in fact.
Hidden in the English words is another meaning,
often blatant often subtle,
always magical, often double,
Yes, meaning it has, in fact very loaded, meaning
indeed, most fun when it is encoded!
Fun we have expressing like this!
Really clever, sharing of bliss!
Then all of the sudden you read an EARTHQUAKE!
Wow, where did that come from? For God's sake!
I hope all have found Magic,
big messages yield,
from a heavenly field,
hiding within the language within the language within the language.
This is not repetitive this is real!
Three layers uncovered so far,
perhaps more to come, a thrill!
My interpretation is: Our common street language is level number one; business, shopping lists, daily street fun!
Level two is what we do,
playing in mind with words like goo,
shape them, stretch them, twist them good,
the best that our mind
Level 3 if you are still here,
is where it really gets good,
perhaps very dear!
This is where the poet leaves the mind and enters their heart,
where Spirit is infused, a magical start.
When Spirit flow in, things really warm up,
the magic shines, The Universe sings and teaches,
really good stuff, at times it preaches!
Preaches love and pure vision,
not from this earthly logical prison.
Love I do, finding these nuggets of gold,
when Spirit flows thru me bold,
or whispering softly, impelling thought...
and a golden egg appears!
How deep do these levels go, please share, those who know.
Or is it that those who know don't tell and those
who tell don't know?
Comments about Poetry, A Language Within A Language Within A Language! by Pithy Marvel
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You