Are poems
Just words on a page?
Two-dimensional phrases
Slapped onto paper
For public enjoyment?
Or are they something more?
Are they graphite feelings
Traced upon the page?
Liquid emotions
Poured out from the pen
A delicate stream of words
Weaving a gossamer web
Are poems etched
From moonlight and tears?
Are they the veins on a fly’s wing?
The low-flying clouds that kiss the trees?
Are poems words dancing?
Making their black marks upon the paper
Are they the fifth-dimension?
The tickle of grass beneath bare feet?
Are they a song no one can sing out loud?
Or are they merely letters stamped upon a sheet of paper?
Flat and meaningless
Or, perhaps, something more…