Wolf and the Owl
Poetry, Lyrics, Translations
and Musings by Alex Etchart


By on Monday 9th September, 2013

Life must be poetic in order to survive

For what is poetry in its essence?
A string of pointless pompous words?
An ear assault by a social brute?
I think not

The pouring out of tea with dignity before soldiers raid your house
Transforms into a whale she who’s treated like a mouse


For the darker, the more pain, bomb scares and scars our life is reduced to
The more the only way we can reclaim it, embellish it and let light in
Is through honouring the grace in our tiniest acts

They can lock you in the dark, four walls of cold stone
But your poetry of spirit is the thing they’ll never own

So when we re-tell our tales each time we have the duty
To add magic, the spice of the moment
Build our own hystories, mysteries
Illusions for which to soldier on

Lest we dry up and forget
Spells and folklore, stories long told
Give us wisdom, learning, inheritance
Through which to be bold

The further we reduce life to soulless scientific certainties
The more we risk losing passion and creativity
The ingredients with which to grasp infinity

And is a life without daydreams
Painted into the very seams
Of the experiences we share
Life worth living at all?
I think not

Life must be poetic in order to survive

Posted in: Poems

Blog owner, singing/strumming person, word speaker, community arts make-happen-er, eco-baby.


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