Poetry is intended to express what is a commonality to mankind. Which means that everyone should relate to the sentiment or emotion of the work. Other works in poetic form are formally called verses. (Or that's what my rhyming dictionary says.)
Here are three examples. One is nostalgia, On The Edge.
One is didactic, pointing out that perception is individual, Perception. One is about the times we all have when we are somewhat bummed, spiced with some suggestion, Paradise Won.
All are meant to evoke the emotion noted and to end up with an inspirational lilt. I feel these poems meet the criteria of shared human experience. Feel free to comment.
On The Edge
Age thirteen and fourteen
sit on the divan
sprinkling giddy-giggles
behind each small han'
We sit in our recliners
and remember once again
the hope, joy, anticipation
mixed with anxiety's pain.
They look at us in wonder
as if we knew naught of their ways
for thy think we wander helpless
in a hoary aged maze.
But they don't consider
we once had a first dance,
our hearts tripped like hammers
at a romantic chance.
If they only knew some memories
just more vibrant grow
and emotions at ebb tide
stay fresh in ages snow.
But it really doesn't matter
they must forward go
and deal with the consequence
romance or no.
Although they think us relics
and look on us with pity
I would not change a thing
not a dot or a ditty.
It's all a rite of passage
and they're on the verge.
Each thing they experience
a note in childhood's dirge.
Perception
Life is mostly point of view,
and some points are blunted,
either by genetic happenstance
or curiosity that's stunted.
As with a pencil point,
blunter draws a wider line,
thus losing the clarity
which subtleties define.
Global reasoning leads to
stereotype, discrimination,
and a truth which resides
only in imagination.
But this only changes
with the participant's view
so presenting another side
is all we can do.
Then if the same verse
beats without cease,
simply say,
"Peace."
Paradise Won
Our minds are full of
canyon and peak
and sedentary like water
the nadir point we seek.
In the deepest crevice
it is dark, and steep each wall,
and a lonely, gray sky
is spread coldly over all.
Just don your climbing gear
and struggle to the height
you will find
serenity, beauty, delight.
But if you turn away
continue to slog
if you don't hit the quagmire
you'll sure stay in the bog.