Heaven, Hell, and Toothpicks.

I have never understood why someone would write, or why they should, or why they could; or how or what or when or where or who for that matter. Which brings up a question personally for me why, how, what, when, where should, would, could I write? Who, what, when, where, why, how... Well, everyone should write whatever they want, whenever they want, wherever they want, because they can! And how?! For one thing, Poetry is not just beautiful metaphors with complex yet intricate, flowing rhythms and pedometers. Poetry is often viewed as a free-form expression from the “soul” or something romantic of that nature. Not to say that it isn’t true, but I honestly think it doesn’t do it justice when someone describes it in such a way as free-form expression.

Honestly, we owe poetry more than that, to say that poetry is free-form expression, and call it a day. Most poets who write poetry for a living, and who have this intimate connection with their writings, would agree. Poetry is essentially indefinable, indescribable. It’s impossible. One person can write about Toothpicks, and nothing may make sense to any person who reads it. Is it poetry? Imagine the poet there, it’s two in the morning, snowing outside, just had some nachos and he’s alone or something... and he writes this poem, but this lonely, nacho-eating guy is passionate about toothpicks, so he begins writing what seems to be nonsense to everyone around him, but it is his unconditional love for toothpicks. Poetry is what the poet makes it to be, so poetry can be anything and everything, but I believe it has to mean something, be significant in some sort of way, but only to the writer. The reader can have his or her opinions on a particular poem, but it’s unfair to the writer, the poet, for the reader to say that it is not poetry. The writer put his heart and soul into that poem, how much he loved toothpicks, and here others say it is absurd to call it poetry. Anyone can write poetry, and what makes poetry is the person writing it.

I cannot imagine there being another place Earth. I can barely even see myself viewing the Earth from the moon, and even though I have seen pictures, it would still be hard to understand how awe-inspiring the universe, considering the fact that there is so much beyond the planet I live on. Hell, I cannot fathom, the torture and the pain and torment and whatever goes on there, I can’t see myself there, hopefully I never will, I know for a fact I never will. And I cannot imagine what Heaven will be like either, because its indescribable beauty and astonishment is beyond my comprehension. I guess you could actually, write it in poetry, what you think and feel about Heaven, Hell, and even just the stars in the sky. But not even poetry, though I find it nearly unlimited and boundless through self-expression, will do justice when describing Heaven and Hell or even the Universe. But you definitely can write about it, what you think and feel about what it is or if it is, and it is poetry. My point being, is that people can make beautiful poetry, whether it makes sense or not, but it doesn’t mean that whatever it may be about, if about anything, will be portrayed to the fullest extent it can be portrayed. Poetry can be

about anything, but poetry won’t always do justice to its topic or subject. I want to share this because despite the somewhat endless possibilities poetry has; it isn’t like the key to the meaning to life necessarily. It is a profound way to express ones thoughts and feelings and inclinations towards something like Heaven, Hell, and Toothpicks.

It’s difficult to say how to write poetry, or use poetry. I explained that someone can essentially write anything and it be considered poetry, but to make poetry be “poetic,” to someone else, how does someone do that? Not everyone will put themselves in the position or point of view as the poet/writer, they won’t consider it “Poetry” if it is about Toothpicks. Most people today have developed a standard, and this standard is that there has to be intimate, it has to have significance, it has to mean something, maybe even as strict that there must be rhyme, meter, or a metaphor, I’m not exactly sure. I’m sure that in order to make a women fall in love with you “via poetry,” a guy wouldn’t write a poem that is simple and stupid and insignificant. “I love you, because you are pretty, and you’d say yes, if you truly loved me.” Honestly? That’s a big plate of crud if you are attempting to woo your lover. It may mean something to the guy, but that won’t get him a girlfriend or a date to prom. “I know for a fact that God made you to be as beautiful and as sweet as can be. And even though my love is flawed, I hope and pray that you would love me.” That will get you a woman! You don’t need metaphors, and depending on the situation, it might not even need to rhyme, but a poem that the reader can relate to, or a poem where a reader can feel a sense of significance in it, is Poetry that sells.

No one can accurately describe “poetry,” yet we have this understanding what it is. The question remaining is, why? Why write poetry? Because we can? Not everyone has the privilege to express themselves through poetry about whatever they are inclined to write about. But there are still people, elsewhere in the world, who don’t have that freedom, that do write poetry, despite the consequences... what then? Why write poetry; to get something off your chest, or to let go of something? Maybe you want to express to someone that you love them. Or maybe you just want to express how captivating the stars can be. How hard life can be, or how great life can be. Some people scream into their pillows, some people write poetry. Some people cry and weep, some people write poetry. Why write poetry? Does someone write for something like love and hate, or for something like respect and disregard, or for something like healing and hurting? Maybe there’s no point at all, but we just write about something that is significant to us, like family and friends, or school or work or our country. Or maybe, we write poetry for something like Heaven, Hell, or Toothpicks.