Many finds it difficult to define poetry!
So in your sense, what is poetry to you?

An aid to memory. An experiment into more advanced modes of being. Chronotope turned euchronia. The esemplastic fled away with the quadlibetical. The Transforming Agent of Change. Ostranenie of dull perception. Intelligence distilled into truth.

It's the way I feel about something, or an experience I have had or something I have noticed.
It's a move of the Spirit that brings me to need to say something.
It's a weeping or dying on the page.
Poetry lets me get it out in a way that doesn't require sources, or proof, or explanation. It just is.

Poetry to me is like a moments capture in our heads and express in words thoughts our hearts

Is like painting....try to fix a life moment in its total intensity

From our minds there are disembodied words that coalesce into perceptible forms, among them - poetry, which in comparison to other forms of articulation allow us a licence to fashion an experience of language in the stretching of its features, techniques and devices - as in a dance or a painting or other visual art and motion.

It’s born of the ethers, the world of spirit.

Poetry is myself talking to myself. I always feel better (happy) after I write a poem. When the poem is shared, & someone else feels its energy, I am doubly happy.

Poetry is patterns.
Patterns of thought,
reflected in
sound,
speech,
or song,
or text,
It's patterns of meanings, expressed or understood.
Humans evolved to recognise patterns.
Their recognition, and the way we respond to them is essential (certainly to our physical survival)
and possibly to our mental health?

for me poetry is a song without music or story with a flowing rhythm.
Poets ( I believe) belong to a long and ancient line of bards and storytellers. We allow our inherited insticts to speak. Think about it, how many of us decided for ouselves that we would be poets? it is something that happens to us unannounced.

Words arrive in bundles
then seperate spread
out of my control.
They lead - and I am led
into their parallel world
that I can show
but never tell.
Where restrictive barriers are broken,
no devisive languages are spoken,
and yet we touch
and in turn are touched.
Words arrive in bundles
and manipulate my thoughts
but they are welcome.

Wow! I didn’t know it was this hard.

Poetry?
Me in motion? = granddad dancing.
Me on the page = granddad romancing-a veritable man of letters might I add.

In the spirit of the above posts, may I wish each and every one (be ye arseholes or not) a good-humour filled Christmas-or as Father Jack would say: FECK-DRINK!

Poetry is about romancing in isolation. The thoughts that flow whilst all are calm and peaceful, born out of memories from when the world was rumbustious.
Making sense of my emotions, my prejudices, and whateverists and preconceptions.
Most of all, it is the humour in playing with words, thinking of a word and writing a verse, and then feeling really smug.
Poetry is my life. It's my solitude, it's all my hopes and all my dreams.

Poetry is :
waves rolling onto the seashore,
trees bending in a breeze,
tall grass in a field showing the shape of the wind as it passes,
the deep warm tones of a Lancashire accent,
the joyous glugging of a nice wine on its release from the bottle,
the happy chatter of little children in the playground just up the street,

Thee on' me writing about stuff like that.

Blimey has it taken us 2 yrs to arrive at this conclusion!

Uilleam
I've been here but just a heartbeat, the previous 2 years minus 1 heartbeat I am oblivious to, that's poetry for you, seeing yourself in just one verse but not in the whole narrative of the epic

Poetry is painting with words. Art and artifice, bringing to our
attention that which may have been previously unconsidered.

OOPS-have I been misunderstood?

I did NOT mean that the following is a piece of poetry!

"....waves rolling onto the seashore,
trees bending in a breeze,
tall grass in a field showing the shape of the wind as it passes,
the deep warm tones of a Lancashire accent,
the joyous glugging of a nice wine on its release from the bottle,
the happy chatter of little children in the playground just up the street,.."

My joke:
"Blimey has it taken us 2 yrs to arrive at this conclusion!"
was simply that, merely a reference to the date of the first post on this subject!
😧

oh, hadn't even looked back to the first post on this thread! 😃

That, Frederick is, I suppose, typical of internet communications these days.😉

I agree with Chris

"It's the way I feel about something, or an experience I have had or something I have noticed.
It's a move of the Spirit that brings me to need to say something.
It's a weeping or dying on the page.
Poetry lets me get it out in a way that doesn't require sources, or proof, or explanation. It just is."

Well said.