Poetry’s my life and breath.
It breathes beyond the veil of death.
Composed within clandestine caves
by phantoms from their ghostly graves.
Poetry’s the queen of love,
whose rhymes are blessed by God above.
It's selfless, sincere, never sham,
like lordly lion or little lamb.
Poetry’s my meat and drink.
It flows from feelings, and I think
it surges like a seething sea
of sacramental symmetry.
Poetry’s a megaphone,
a wizard's philosophic stone.
It never can be praised too much:
has Muse’s golden, Midas touch!
Poetry’s my right-hand-man.
It pens its pearls from precious plan,
and lays down metered verse in rhyme,
like lovely lotus grown in slime.
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Author:
Blue-eyed Bolla (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: March 27th, 2022 06:20
- Comment from author about the poem: for my poet friends
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 25
- Users favorite of this poem: Accidental Poet
Offline)
Comments3
Wonderful Kevin. A view I happen to share with you. 😉
Thank you, AP. Glad you liked. 🤗
This is a really wonderful poem, I almost called it a "write" because most folks don't rhyme. But i love these rhymes and the line "Poetry's the Queen of love"..at least it is for me. Thank you for sharing this, it's wonderful!
You just nailed this, our most precious artform & friend my friend ..N
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