Poetics
your inviting words
to the Poet, on their inviting words
Your words unfold like a quiet lantern,
casting light without demanding notice.
They remind us that essence is never lost,
only translated,
like a fragrance carried on different winds.
There is comfort in knowing
that what stirs the heart in one tongue
will find its echo in another.
The rose does not ask to be named,
yet it is recognized everywhere.
Keep writing in this way —
where simplicity hides depth,
and every line feels like a door
that opens into silence,
inviting us to step through.
.
inversions
The Good Poem Gone Bad / The Bad Poem Gone Good
The “good” poem builds its cathedral,
arches of meter, stained‑glass rhyme.
But the tourists are bored,
they’ve seen this nave before.
The bell tolls on time,
and that is the problem.
(cue jump cut)
The “bad” poem stumbles in, drunk
syntax crooked, enjambment bleeding,
clichés dragged like tin cans behind a wedding car.
It laughs at its own metaphors,
spills ink across the page like wine.
And suddenly—
the room leans in.
(Dutch angle: the stanza tilts)
Good form is polished marble,
but marble cracks,
and the cracks are where the moss grows.
Bad form is scaffolding,
but scaffolding is where the workers sing.
(breaking the fourth wall)
You, reader,
yes, you —
are waiting for the “proper” line break.
So, here it is.
But wasn’t the stumble more alive?
(overexposure)
Too many images,
too many suns,
too many mirrors reflecting mirrors reflecting mirrors—
until the page is bleached white.
And in that glare,
the “bad” poem breathes.
.