Learn more about other poetry terms

Brain, test.   Lunch break, yes.   Hustle to classes   Grades up, passes.   Thinking? No.   Keep up with the poetic flow.   What is green?  
As I dwell on this long and lonely road   One everlasting mile away from home   You see me on the bench, jacket zipped   Book open in my lap, my head dipped   Poetry in motion,  
The purest of thoughts are the ugliest in kindThe prettiest of faces have the darkest of mindsIt is a fact, or maybe a foul But the most hurt of people have the brightest of smiles
Poetry can be five words or fifty, Poetry can be two lines or twenty. The words have no meaning , no life, no rife. That is until the heartrings of the poetizer, weave the words togther.
Warning: some explicit language  
I look at the towering shelves that enchant  me with their dust, And their books sitting there like a superlative throne. I find the quiet a blessing, Because I know they won't forever be silent.  
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