poets lie,
they fib in the verses
give names to
absence
.
and talk of grief
and smiles 
in neighboring 
lines 
.
paint colourless
pictures and turn 
blindness to 
such light 
.
yet ruffle old 
comfort 
and break 
confines 
.
what might be or
might there be 
a reason to the being 
of poetry
.
structured chaos
and the poet’s
thoughtful
asymmetry?
.
ramblings of a 
disconcerted heart
or a ballad of time?
.
maybe just a tumble 
of words
that couldn’t help 
but rhyme. 
.
Image result for black and white poetic flowers photography

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