No.94: What Makes a Poem?

Is it a rhyme scheme,
or a feeling,
or the writer's reputation,
or the complexity of thought, 
or the simplicity, 
or the imagery,
or the rhythm,
or the topic, 
or the audience,
or the line breaks,
or the spice of a slick simile,
or the omnipotence of a metaphor, 
or the font, 
or the length,
or the medium,
or the strain it takes to break the quiet chains,
or the tone, or the need, or the way the screams read like prose and pose calm like poetry?

I don't know. I just do it.

I type my pain, my thoughts bleed ink, 
I write what my lips hesitate to speak.
The pen don't freeze.
The soul don’t rest.
The sting don’t cease

until the poem sings.

Cover Photo by Matt Botsford on Unsplash