Poetry is a phantom script telling how rainbows are made and why they go away.

Two bubbles found they had rainbows on their curves.
They flickered out saying:
"It was worth being a bubble, just to have held that rainbow thirty seconds.

I've written some poetry I don't understand myself.

Poetry is a packsack of invisible keepsakes.

Poetry is the synthesis of hyacinths and biscuits.

Poetry is the opening and closing of a door, leaving those who look through to guess what is seen during a moment.