Converse.

Poetry in any form is a translation. Emotions, ideas, dreams all become through poetry.

Poetry is a language of understanding that allows our soul to converse with the world.

Poetry is meant to make the invisible visible.
- Martin Espada

Poetry is the music of the soul, and, above all, of great and feeling souls.
- Voltaire

So show a little inspiration
Show a little spark
Show the world a little act when you show it your heart
We've got two lives--one we're given,
And the other one we make
And the world won't stop
And actions speak louder
Listen to your heart.
- Mary-Chapin Carpenter

A couple of weeks ago, Billy Collins was quoted in The Wall Street Journal opining the merit of music lyrics to that of poems: “‘Lyrics just don't hold up without the music,’ says Billy Collins, professor and former poet laureate. When his students argue that the lines by their favorite rock stars should be assessed as literature, he demurs: ‘I assure them that Jim Morrison is not a poet in any sense of the word.’” This struck me not because I necessarily disagree — indeed many people who consider themselves serious poets would agree with those words — but because only Billy Collins, arguably the most popular poet in the U.S., could get away with saying them in a publication that is not geared specifically to poets. They surprised me, coming from him, because Collins has been repeatedly praised for accessibility and an ability to relate to everyday people — for many, he himself can be considered a gateway into poetry, yet here he is pushing poetry to the elite fringe. Shouldn’t someone at the forefront of the poetry movement try to discourage the misconception that poetry is highbrow? Poetry kicks ass, and if I were Billy Collins, I would do everything in my power to convince others that it does, using the most powerful verses to get my point across, which naturally include — come on, poets, let’s get off our high horses — song lyrics. At least I can get away with saying this: Billy Collins, you have made a grave mistake. The poetry muses should string you up and throw pointy paper quills at you.

Billy doth protest too much, methinks, but you can read the rest here and decide.