I can't tell you where a poem comes from, what it is, or what it is for: nor can any other man. The reason I can't tell you is that the purpose of a poem is to go past telling, to be recognised by burning.
“I love spring flowers: daffodils and hyacinths are the ultimate flower for me. They are the essence of spring.”
“Some people are so fond of ill luck that they run halfway to meet it.”