oh critic of the poets

oh critic of the poets you have many words,
belittling strife to those of a poetic world.
You seek pleasure in causing chaotic havoc
yet you forget that words can also hurt

oh critic of the poets have you once wrote,
did you lift a pen and release your hopes?
Have you ever serenaded the stanzas,
painting in ink your very dreams and woes?

No, you haven't written a single piece,
but you find a right to break the peace.
Your knowledge of poetry is very limited,
just as your beliefs have got you deceived.

Poetry is a traveller wandering oh so freely,
just as the winds flow gently and oh so easy.
No cage, nothing can imprison it's path,
It will innovate and paint it's own picture,
and it's a passion that will never leave me.

You seem to have so many words to disparage and say,
yet not poetically; nothing to really appreciate.
Do you intend to stay stuck ignorant in all your days,
change the melody once; learn to dance in the rain.

Poetry is love; poetry is a passionate art,
create and innovate using an open heart.
No rules; no restrictions;  just pick up a pen,
paint your picture and illuminate the hoping stars