Poems are a reflection of a higher world,
A place where thoughts and emotions whirled.
A home for the weary, sad, and weak;
Courage for the humble, tired, and meek.
Poetry can take you to
A world that no one ever knew
Existed, but now you can go there,
Because poems can take you anywhere!

Poetry is the artistic use of words to express emotion, describe nature, or just get rid of bad feelings. It is powerful, and when written properly, has the power to move people's souls. Poetry comes in many varieties; there are sonnets, haiku, narrative poems, and limericks. All of them serve to express different moods, such as romance, hope, wistfulness, anger, and grief. Whatever the purpose of the poem, there is no mistake that if it moves you, it is a work of art, a masterpiece.

This is the story of a girl who lives in a world created by poetry itself. She serves as a guide to visitors, bringing them to the abode of the Poet, who she serves. Oddly enough, the Poet is never there; but no one knows why.

You wander through a world you chose,
A wondrous world that's make of Prose.
A young girl comes to you to say,
Hallo, how are you? Enjoy your stay!
You should indeed, if you but heed
My words, for I am your guide today.
You ask her name, and she replies, It's Bellcay.

Bellcay, you say, as she wanders away,
What sort of place is this, where now we do stay?
I seem to see sound, and my words are unheard.
I can hear the bright sunshine, I see songs of a bird!
She turns around, face locked in a frown,
And peers at you in disdain.
Isn't it clear that we are near the edge of the Backwards Plain?

These words you see clearly as the sun in the sky
Which oddly, you hear now, but now you know why:
The Backwards Plain has reversed all your senses
So you can see the bug songs and hear the fences.
But just as you feel a little more real
Your senses swap back once more
Now, said the guide, we are entering through the Poet's Bedroom Door.

You ask the young girl, Who is the Poet?
And the girl answers, How do you not know it?
For she created this world, including even me!
She made every last raindrop, every last tree.
She made me a guide to bring to her side
All the friends she's made over the years,
And to keep away all of her horrible Nightmares and Fears.

You wonder what these things could be,
But that is when you see clearly
That you are in your room once again,
Dozing on homework, hand holding a pen.
It would now seem it was all just a dream,
But then you hear your guide say,
I'll be waiting for when you come back to Prose on some other day!

The mysterious guide in the mysterious world of the mysterious Poet. Not even Bellcay is sure how she knows where she came from, what her job is, or who the Poet is. She doesn't know why she is the only permanent inhabitant of the world she calls Prose, or why so many visitors come, pass through with her, and disappear through the Poet's Bedroom Door.

What Bellcay does not understand is the fact that she is not nearly a guide and protector. She will find out who the Poet is someday soon...

The Poet is the girl who made it all,
From the wind and the rain to the leaves that fall.
Bell knows her creation, but not who is she
Who created the world, to the very last tree.
So how will she react when she finds it is herself?