Poetry is God


God is poetry

Poetry is God.


In the beginning was the word,

and the word was with God,

and the word was God.


Words, spilling frantic from my fingers,

a whirlwind of creation and destruction

almost mysterious in meaning

but the sum is greater than the parts.


God is poetry,

the creator of humankind in it’s glory

and the creation of human kind,

we created poetry and in the process God.

God created us and in the process poetry.


Poetry is God,

all encompassing and powerful,

swifter and keener than a two edged sword

slicing away artifice to reveal Truth.


Poetry is inside each of us,

the outward expression of our inner soul.

A painters brush carefully caressing canvas,

an athlete’s body in effortless motion,

the heartrending timbre of a singers voice,

the harmonious laughter of mother and child,

the weather worn and leathered palms

of men and women across the ages

writing the poetry of humanity with

sweat and blood across the earth.


God is in all things,

from the red wheelbarrow

to the mystical raven

and even in the frozen depths

of the human heart.

He is in the hellish rage

and in the tender care.


Time slips past and we forget,

our hearts grow calloused by pain

and regret clouds our vision

But when poetry speaks!


When poetry speaks,

shattered hearts are mended

disbelief is suspended

and the chaos is ended.


When poetry speaks!

Oh when poetry speaks,

the blood boils in the heart of all who hear,

casting away doubts, shadows and fears

breaking boundaries

not caring for race, sexual inclination,

gender, financial stitutation

but simply gutting the beast

and reading the future in it’s entrails.


When poetry speaks,

we fall silent.

Hushed and waiting.


When God Speaks.


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