Magic wonders of life: a prose poem

I Don’t Write Poetry Because I Want to Say Something

But because the words in me have something to say

“You don’t write because you want to say something, you write because you have something to say .” ~ F. Scott Fitzgerald

Poetry?

I don’t write poetry because I want to say something, I write poetry because the words in me have something to say.

Words' play, play of words, words playing in my mind. Some say we should write for others. I write for them. Words. Is that wrong? Is that right? It is, simply, my reality.

Words are here. Coming slowly, imperceptible at first. Then they become stronger, sparkling, exploding with their own life!

I write because of the beautiful chaos that is words. I write because they give structure to my thoughts. They give colors to my life. I write because I like playing with them. I write when they come crashing down and burning my fingertips. I write when they come flowing like tears I cry. I write as I can’t help feeling inspired… and release them, like I breathe air to live. I want to murmur their secrets, I want to share their messages. I want to yell their power, their double edge. They sing to me, and I dance with them, stepping to their rhythms. I want to let them live, I want to let them grow, I want to immortalize them. I want to write.

They are my thoughts. They’re there when I can’t understand the meaning of life. They’re there when life is too beautiful or incomprehensible to be described. They are still when I’m wordless and breathless. And then they come running back, like children who can’t stay still and want to hug, to touch, to discover, to bring you to see their world.

Words live in me, I live in them. I live with them, share their life. I like when they embrace my lips and melt my brain. They wake me up and kiss me goodnight. Then they come to join me in my dreams and transform my reality. Sometimes, they are so excited that they come to me too fast. They become a happy jumble of sounds or some wiggling art more or less in line.

Sometimes, I try to order them and they explode. I try to restrict them and they escape my watch. I try to discipline them and they just laugh out their way. I try to grab them and they slip off my tongue. I try to play their game and they make me lose my mind.

They are in my head, they are on my lips. They are on the things I see, they are in the sounds I heard. They are under my skin and in my blood. They flow in me and make my heart beat faster, and send my thoughts spinning.

Other times, I want to kick them out. I meditate. Silence. A moment. I breathe in, breathe out. BREATHE. A word intruding! And suddenly, the spell is broken and the words are back, stronger than ever before, playing their own symphony. And I sing with them, I cry and laugh. I throw them away and they come bounding back. I hug them and I miss them. To realize they were playing hide and seek in my mind. How can I live without them?

I write poetry not because I want to say something. I write poetry because the words in me have something to say.

Here I walk on this earth as a writer. Ridicule me if you want, but those words are already born. They live their own life, of their own rights. What right do I have to restrict their existence once they have started to exist? They came to this world through me, but they don’t belong to me. And they will go far beyond me. Like a parent, I need to learn to let those children walk their own path. No matter if I tremble in fear for them, I shall see them until the “and” that I can’t predict.” 4 Steps to Turn Fears in Writings Inspirations, by Lilie Kaizen

Afterthoughts: And you, why do you write poetry? What words are living in you?

This prose poem was written to celebrate 2022 World Poetry Day and in answer to Paper Poetry publication’s W9 prompt:

Thank you to Indubala Kachhawa and Paper Poetry for the inspiration! And thanks to you for reading it. 😊 Hoping you enjoyed it.

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