Words remain like echoes, playing with our minds, as if our Happiness and Sadness is contoured by How we Let Time Affect Our Thinking. Words limit us. Sad thoughts, if read in prose or plays or poems, more clearly frame words in minds, can make us sadder still, while we seek happiness. Strange? Yet true. If we, like Romantic poet P.B. Shelley, say, "Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought" are we inviting sadness with relish, or unwittingly leading our minds towards sadness? Who wants to be sad? Singing happy songs makes us happy, yet poems seem to be leaning towards lamenting and lost moments, grief undergone and relieved. Or such enchanted moments and fancy feelings that it seems "only poets know these things or feel these things". Poetry should touch all, without degenerating into common, sensuous things that leave no trace a few months later. Here is one look at how we can feel the feelings that make us happy, yet not Elite and Artistic. A true and good poet recognizes the poetic thoughts most of us have, or can have, if only we open ourselves to poets and poetry, yet not sensational and personal descriptions that others feel. What binds us and makes us Human is Emotion, not physical sensations. A tribute to such poetry that does not seek to catch attention with banality.
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