prose, prosody, poesy

by walterdoege

I’m studying poetry…the rhythm…the time…the forms…the bound between prose and poetry…so tiny boundaries…there’s some point where prose and poetry are one…the human voicing…the sonnet, a fourteen line verse…the cinquains, a five line verse…the haikus, five live verse with twenty-two syllables…but the solely way I reach for sensing a poem is chanting the words, as I play the musical notes at my old acoustic piano…the human voice is a wonderful musical instrument too…and I do spell out the words of a poem…and i try to sense a poem most by listening through ear…as in music…a poem and a song are related to time…to some succession of some noticed one that come up time after time…some escansion…some true chant, but I’m not a poet…I write some prose…I appreciate lively conversation…that prosody, that music of everyday speech…and I sense the poetics in all peoples…when peoples talk…sometimes resembling prose…sometimes resembling an endless poem…I just write, in between prose, and some poesy…and i sense a poem, as i sense a song, some blissful emotional thought…when emotion and sentiment meet in the middle…and love turn around and within…nor prose neither poesy, but some writing effort to share love and joy…art, done with words, pleasant phrases, fairy tales, of everyday living…somehow, poesy jazz up from prose when a chant can be listened…writing texture…some fine blend of prose, talking, and poesy…anyway, I just write…to share love…to support silence…the ground of sound, and music, and togetherness…roll on, loving road, and lead within all loveliness…to support time, and distance