Some of my fondest childhood memories include nursery rhymes and books. Long before I ever started school my mother had instilled in me a deep love of words and I could recite dozens of nursery rhymes and poems that had been read over and over to me.
I began writing poetry when I was about ten years old and I have often found solace and comfort in the rhythm and flow of poetry. Words are like an ancient musical instrument and with the right cadence their melody can sooth or haunt. With the right pulse, words can stir the memory and leave you with a bittersweet longing for something just beyond the recess of your recollection. They can evoke the imagination and take you someplace you’ve never been or take you back for just a moment to someplace or time you once knew. Words not only express beauty, they create beauty and our ability to recognize and appreciate beauty is – like the words themselves – a distinctive mark of God’s image within us. And while prose may be pleasant and pleasing, it cannot match exquisite beauty of poetry that can flow with a rhythm that prose cannot borrow.
Poetry and Prose
Prose needs to be sprinkled with poetry sometimes
The romance it brings with its rhythms and rhymes
Like a twinkling book with a beautiful flow
The sunset that sinks to the pit of the soul
Prose is the language with a daily ring
It lacks the emotion to make the heart sing
Prose is efficient, it leaves nothing to ponder
Eccentric is poetry, it fabricates wonder
How lonely, how sad, how dull it must be
For a life that’s all prose and can’t ever see
The beauty, the color, the awe that surround
The one who in life, poetry has found