does the waterfall fall <br />because it wants to be heard, seen? <br />does the mighty river flow <br />because it wants to be admired, painted? <br />does the rainbow arc over the sky <br />because it wants to listen to a love wish made in its name? <br />does the moon shine because it wants to be written an ode? <br />no, no, none cares for even an echo of a response from the world. <br />so should poet, shouldnt he? <br />poetry, yes poetry, <br />should run through him <br />like the river that pours out to sea <br />the water that cascades down the waterfall <br />the rainbow that colours the sky <br />the moon that subtly crowns, lights up night <br />without those ego/desire attachments <br />where buddha appends all human sufferings <br />real poetry runs from that part of our soul, world <br />that is a part of everybody's world <br />like the river, waterfall, rainbow and moon <br />admiration, if any, goes back to nature <br />where the poets belong <br />real poets as homo sapiens dont crave for them. <br />they are not instruments made for such low ideals<br /><br />john tiong chunghoo<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/poem-about-poetry-writing-poetry-for-poetry-s-sake/
