Lest a poem suck

The life out of one’s soul,

Leaving that reader wanting

Their soul to be returned,

Along with the time they have

Wasted in the desert wasteland

Of the poverty of words and insights,

Written or read for the consumption

Of stupidity or ignorance or both,

A poem must be poetry,

And poetry must be a painting,

And the painting must catch the eye,

And the eye must catch the heart,

Word by word, line by line, verse by verse,

Till what bursts forth in the heart

Is a deluge within the soul,

Drowning out all other aspects of life,

So that the only thought

In the mind

Is whether or not the reader

Is going to

Survive.