Games poems essays.

    When I read poems and I write poems, I categorize them. It began in Language and Composition. After writing an essay, our teacher pointed out to half the class that their main fault there in was a tone of prescriptive writing. Implementing should's and would's gave the whole piece a forward expectant lean; the writer proposed change like a doctor. He then went on to say that the entire point of this essay prompt was for descriptive, prospective writing. He intended us to look at the here and now, and to explain and analyze and discuss this topic.
     I never forgot this lesson. It opened up a whole new way of looking at the world, muchly similar to my revelation into the meanings of Subjective and Objective. Mostly though, it turned up in the worlds outside. It colored my poetry and the poetry of others with names. I began searching and diving through this new hole I had ripped. I found more aspects of directive tone(as I call it). I picked up words like Prospective, Descriptive, and Direct,, and started applying them to Poetry.
     This became quite worrisome as I mused on others' pieces. Each work seemed trapped in this half world in between all these terms. They don't cut and decipher like an essay, but they neglect the true flow, ambiguity, and metaphor of poetry. This Direct poetry doesn't suit me. It doesn't cut it. It fails my expectations and brings me no joy to read. I've therefore begun to examine poetry, uncontrollably, on this scale--in this spectrum. Does the poem leave options for others? Does the poem try to say one thing? As I asked these questions, I realized that a No automatically relegated the poem to misery.

     Whether I know what poetry specifically does or not, I know that, like a question, if the poem reads to point at one thing, it doesn't suit me, and better the words go towards an essay than a mock art piece.
   Forgetting myself, I apologize. In truth, questions that point in one direction do offer functionality. A question posed near the end of a hard hiking experience, directs the intended. "Would you rather go back?" Becomes an instant NO. However, the question allows the user to invoke a point in another's mind without need for breaking through the thickness of the skull. Do poems do this? Are they intended to do this? Think deeper towards the words; If a poem reaches this effect, how else do they do it other than an Inserted question, or an open situation that instills the very same questions.


    Here we are: Instructive poetry! That is the thing I despise. Poetry does not instruct, it constructs, it flies, and it opens up.


In a game, There is usually some spot of luck, but if there are enough options in the game, then the game has strategy to it. If a game's strategy boils down to very few moves and foreseeable outcomes, then the game becomes automatic. You make the choice that is best and luck defines you. I never liked this form of game. The options of a game or a poem inspire. The direct purpose of an essay also inspires. The moxture of these elements, however, produces a lukewarm substance that I spit from my mouth.


Leave the poems alive.