I am in the group of people who have attracted downvoters.

Regardless of what I post the downvote appears.

I don’t think the person or persons even read what I write. No one will come out and admit to the downvote.

I even got a downvote on a comment where I stated my father has cancer.

If the person (or persons) who consistently downvote me have the courage to make themselves known, come out and admit to it.

When people think about poetry, it is generally rhyme that comes to mind. However, my interpretation of poetry is that it tells a story. Just as a novel tells a story, a short story does also. And then a poem. The story just becomes more condensed from novel to short story to poem. Of course you can also have epic poems, such as The Iliad.

Here is one of the poems I like best:

Letting you go is hard to do.

I’ve known you so long. Can I give you up?

I don’t know. You mean so much to me.

Inside, I feel pain, sharp pain;

Hurt cries out, but only on the inside.

I want you here to stay with me.

Why does it have to hurt?

It’s been said, “Parting is such sweet sorrow.”

But no, no I say. Parting is just plain sorrow.

 

Many diff’rent songs come to mind as I see you ready to leave.

I must live my life, you must live your life.

Why though? I’ve had you all my life.

How can I live without you here?

You must go; I know that.

It still hurts much. I can’t deny.

If I did it would be a lie.

That would not stop the pain I feel.

I do not want you gone, but I know my wants aren’t your needs.

 

I must agree with Boys II Men when they say,

“It’s so hard to say goodbye to yesterday.”

It is.

Maybe one of the reasons this poem is among my favorites is that I know why it was written. I know all the feelings and emotions behind it, as I wrote it.

I appreciate poetry and I worry about poetry in a world where things have to be clear and brief.

This is one of my favourite poems. It's <em>Crossing the Water</em> by Sylvia Plath:

Black lake, black boat, two black, cut-paper people.

Where do the black trees go that drink here?

Their shadows must cover Canada.

A little light is filtering from the water flowers.

Their leaves do not wish us to hurry:

They are round and flat and full of dark advice.

Cold worlds shake from the oar.

The spirit of blackness is in us, it is in the fishes.

A snag is lifting a valedictory, pale hand;

Stars open among the lilies.

Are you not blinded by such expressionless sirens?

This is the silence of astounded souls.

100% poetic...

And now a poem :

Yesterday I saw you from behind.

Today I see you from the front...

.. I prefer Yesterday.

Oh good. I see my anonymous downvoter followed me here. I'd feel lost if he / she didn't show up to give me the downvote. It's nice to note that I have a cult following.