what is poetry? is poetry confined to definitions and theories and rhyme schemes? would i make a phenomenal poet out of me, if i wolf down devices-- poetic devices day and night? if i have metaphors and similies running from the tip of my tongue, if i hold allegories and allusions tied to the nib of my pen, if i chew on personification and be parasitic on imagery, would i make a phenomenal poet out of me? what is poetry? is poetry free flowing like river and sea and ocean and waterfalls? would i still make a poet out of me, if i jot down word after word trying too visibly to make it lyrical? if i save stories worth remembering between verses that bear uneven gaps? if i compromise on a grammar rule and bend to beauty's breeze? if i love the idea of poetry in itself while gorging on clichés and dumbness? would i still make a poet out of me, who is worth reading? what is poetry? is poetry confined to definitions and theories and rhyme schemes? would i make a phenomenal poet out of me, if i wolf down devices-- poetic devices day and night? if i have metaphors and similies running from the tip of my tongue,
