-Inspired by Eileen TAbios's essay on Jose Garcia Villa-

Poetry
at its
best must sing.

Sing
like a
bird compelled beyond

natural might. Sing
with strength
withheld.

Sing
so that
it awakens passion.

To say the
least. Poetry
moves. Transforming scribes

into dreamers who
cry out,
"Hay(na)ku!"

Hay(na)ku
it haunts
even my dreaming.

**

Okay, I am badly in need of a poetry teacher, but hey One can play...and it is true. Hay(na)ku does haunt even my dreaming.

Dabbling more and more in hay(na)ku and trying to find that perfect combination that hits me in the gut and makes me go...I think I have it.

I suppose I had to write that down as I found myself reflecting on what it is about poetry that moves me.

I have to think about my mom and the constant commentaries that accompanied every musical performance we went to together. "My that's true music, dear." When my mom says this, she means the pianist has transcended beyond the notes and phrases so that in some way, music becomes the pianist's own.

I suppose that's exactly how I feel about poetry. I am so grateful for these poets whose works I am discovering. Grateful because I see how words can be transformed into works of living art. The words move me and transform me, making me dream of unlimited possibilities.