Poetry Lives Among Us

“I don’t like poetry,” some proudly say,
Yet quote their favourite songs throughout the day.
They carry verses tucked within their minds,
Not seeing poetry in all they find.

For poetry was never just for books,
Or hidden in old libraries and nooks.
It lives in conversations, prayers, and pain,
In whispered memories we speak again.

It marched through history beside the drum,
Recording wars and all we’ve overcome.
It told the tales of kingdoms lost in flame,
And kept forgotten voices still with name.

It lives within the stories grandparents share,
In weathered photographs handled with care.
In letters sent from soldiers far away,
In headlines telling of the world today.

Poetry rides upon the streets we walk,
Within the humour of our daily talk.
It fills the chants of crowds demanding change,
The hopes of those who dream beyond their chains.

It speaks through protest songs and wedding vows,
Through workers bent beneath exhausted brows.
In every culture, language, faith, and land,
Poetry helps humanity understand.

Some turn away because the words feel deep,
Awakening the wounds they try to keep.
Some learned through lessons stripped of living art,
Where poetry was studied — not by heart.

Yet still they feel it pulsing through a tune,
Beneath the city lights or midnight moon.
A melody can reach what speech cannot,
And heal the silent battles people fought.

For poetry reflects both then and now,
The dreams we carried and the fears we bow to.
It questions where humanity may go,
And plants the seeds of futures yet to grow.

It tells the truth of ordinary days,
Of fleeting loves and quiet working ways.
The laughter shared, the grief we hide inside,
The countless human stories time can’t hide.

Say you dislike poetry if you will,
While music moves your soul and makes it still.
Because in every lyric, tale, and art,
Poetry has always shaped the human heart.

It is the voice of memory and time,
Of falling nations and a child’s first rhyme.
And long after our fleeting lives are through,
Poetry will remain — remembering us too.

Paul Baldry

I wrote this poem to challenge the idea that poetry only belongs in books or classrooms. Poetry lives all around us — in music, memories, conversations, history, protest, love, loss, and everyday life itself. Even those who claim not to like poetry often carry it within them through the songs they sing and the stories they tell. This piece reflects how poetry records our past, speaks for the present, and imagines the future through the shared voice of humanity.

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