there is no poverty in poetry: it is a rich world <br />of flowers <br />and magic, of images that imaginations create <br />a warm sun <br />the deep blue sea, some mysteries of words <br />that come <br />and seemingly carry with them a bountry of meanings <br /> <br />liberation, oblation, jubilation <br />expression <br />birds coming out from our mouths <br />butterflies from our <br />stomachs <br />fireworks from our minds <br />in multicolors <br />to the darkest skies <br />of this earth <br /> <br />where can poverty <br />be <br />in a world of freedom: to say what you want to say <br />to think what you want to think <br />to dream <br />to imagine <br />to find meanings where others think there are none? <br /> <br />the secret garden <br />a path <br />a gate <br />a hiding place for all of us who still believe <br />about life <br />and aftelife and life after life <br /> <br />temporary deaths <br />and temporary losses <br /> <br />a jump a leap to the world beyond us <br />to eternity <br />we are meant <br /> <br />this i think is poetry and surely <br />there can never be <br /> <br />poverty<br /><br />Ayi Escalona<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/in-poetry-there-is-no-poverty/
