Ludays

“To Be or Not To Be?”

Shakespeare is probably one of the poets that comes to the minds of many when discussing english poetry. "To be or not be", his famous quote from hamlet, which I haven't read since high school. What classifies something as poetry? Would it be a spoken word if it lacked certain components? What is the difference in these writings? The definition of poetry according to Masterclass, "Poetry is written to share ideas, express emotions, and create imagery." Some would say in order to classify a piece of writing as poetry it would have to consist of rhythmic qualities of language. Now the question is, what if it doesn't rhyme, is it no longer a poem? Poems don't have to rhyme. There's not really any specifications to writing a poem other than the "use of words artistically, by employing figurative language" (grammarly). What I take from that is anyone can write a poem. Music and other forms of art could be considered poetry, as long as the essence of it is there. I write this to say, I have been exploring thoughts and from time to time, I feel the urge to jot down those thoughts. Sometimes, I would question my writing and what it would be classified as. I am no poet, but my writing does have the essence of poetry. You could be the judge of that though:

The song that was playing on repeat while writing: Só Hareton Salvanini

“Depression is no joke” (feb 10th)
“That was just a preface” (feb 22nd)
The color is blue, as the winter hues, come in, it rearranges the surface of my skin
A stinging sensation that’s a constant tapping,
feeling like jolts of electricity, Zapping to the core
Straight to the bone
Do you feel that?
Not Just the cold, from those winter hues,
but the sadness, those so sad tunes,
A rhythmic blue 
Like a sound of Jazz, with a deep heavy bass
a strong horn Sounding through the speakers
Altering the chemistry of my brain
a Separation of sounds.
As My thoughts wonder in the clouds.
What is this feeling? 
Why do I feel it in the cheeks on my face? 
Why do I feel that I need a warm embrace? 
Will it suffice? Will I feel the fulfillment of life? 
oh to be still and steady
thoughts of being ready, but instead uncertainty
Wavering like a signal
Should I run? Away from my fears, should I face head on?
Normally, I feel as though I have the answers 
but recently an odd silence 
Hard to break, in fear, of nothing of sense to rise ,it all feels as a guise 
to hide those unspoken blues, while re-entering the harsh, cold winter hues
Do you understand these words I’ve shared with you?