What's Poetry?

What's poetry?

I don't know.

The breath of Boreas whistling past

Groaning, moaning, screeching loud

Struggling, gasping, panting hard

Under its heavy burden of rain and snow:

Is that poetry?

I don't know.

The feel of raindrops falling on your head

Like the thousand arrows of glowing flame

That pierced the Python's heavy hide

And earned fame and worship for Apollo:

Is that poetry?

I don't know.

The clash of Zeus's warring bolts

Dancing and playing across the sky

While Poseidon's wrath stirs the sea

And tosses ships and heroes to and fro:

Is that poetry?

I don't know.

The kiss of Eos on your face

As she rises from chirping Tithonus's side

And her rose-colored fingers part the clouds

And set the fresh sky all aglow:

Is that poetry?

I don't know.

The whisper of the Muses

Filling up your head

With fancies, ideas, unpaved roads

Some you will take, in your deepest dreams

Others you will never dare to go:

Is that poetry?

I don't know.