What would life be
without poetry?
Would it be better or worse
if it lacked such cool verse?
Would the days seem to drag
with no poetry swag?
Would the poetical profession
survive the digression
of rhythm and rhyme
disappearing in time;
and would all the things we read be just prose, when poetry was dead?
How boring that would be, don’t you think?
Like a frozen-screen television,stuck immobile, on the blink; giving nobody clarity of purpose and mind; keeping similes and metaphors hidden. How unkind.