The utility of poetry. Poetry is used to placate the storms of the soul, redeem a woman or a man, or fill the heart of that feeling called love. You can, in doses well served, feed the spirit, scare a solitude and away sadness. Also serves to reflect on whether the stones speak or if the Moon is medicine for the mal de amores. (Octavio Paz) There are those who say that poetry is useless, skeins of loggerhead words spoken by drunks who are, or who are drug addicts vomiting. However, all at some point in their lives have spoken verses of others or have issued foreign words that have come out of a sigh; they have sung songs with verses that move the soul. Octavio Paz continues saying: through poetry can make talking flowers and flipping head sky, relocate the afternoon. It is a good resource for breaking the monotony and cure insomnia.

A simple verse disrupts the sense of a Word, of an utterance. The verse is a violation of common sense, a stalemate of the poet, a mystical aura that drives the fingers, a scourge to silence. Say for example: dream of fleas with buy a dog and dream of the nobodies out of poor, that one magical day rain soon good luck, which would rain cats and dogs good luck; but good luck doesn’t rain yesterday, neither today, nor tomorrow, nor never, nor in lloviznita falls from heaven luck, as much as the nobodies called and although you chop them left hand, are lifted with the right foot, or begin the year changing broom, cause a catastrophe in the structures of a society such as ours, with bonanza of nobodies who profess varnished reveries of superstitions. Not in vain Eduardo Galeano ends his verse with the nobodies cost less than the bullet that kills them. Poetry is useful in many ways: in the magical does look a Buffalo with the cervix in arc. (Juan Ramon Molina) can float a House boat by the dark waves of Tegucigalpa: this House boat slips by the waves of a dark Tegucigalpa while humans Sailboats sail slow inside bottles.

(Mayra Oyuela, Honduras). Makes us deserving of escapism: deserve the sea and rain, the Apocalypse, what we invent and not, the fish sinking, keys to escape. Credit: Lykos Global Management-2011. (Gustavo Tisocco. Argentina) makes US love the unknowns: I love silence unanswered and the unknowns of the irrelevant question, I love the day and shared hours. (Jose Maria Pinilla, Spain) reflects us as broken mirrors life: life is a lady advising us death and grow so tree surrounded by zigzagging snakes. (Fernando Trejo, Mexico) confronts us with age: what few years have? Exactly the vivid. I don’t know how many nights of intoxicate me with guitar Bohemian, drinking me in long drinks the sunrises, see how the springs are left without masts. I am a man without age who abhors the rush of time and torture of calendars. (Horacio Hidrovo, Ecuador) Gives us longing: woke up crying time, is Sunday and I’m thinking of you. (Ligia Balarezo Mesones, Peru) Poetry is useful in many ways, but especially instrument to observe ourselves, involves flipping the eyes inward, begin to look at you from the inside out. Because when attention focuses internally arises the poetry and emotional adventure of the word begins. Diana Espinal Meza. Original author and source of the article.