You ask where is my Passionate Silk prose,
The Pathway strewn with the Heart's grazed desires;
The Melody of Words the Love-Lost knows,
The Contrast in Nature all Verse Requires.
Nightingale and Lark with Attendance made,
Heaven's lamp to the Pale dutiful Moon;
The Leafy Bowers where Affections trade
And all Honey'ed talk through intimate Noon.
All of Poetry's Toys I'll render to you,
But drab words never Fire the Readers Eye;
To see a Rose is to Value it's bloom,
To describe such is desolate and dry.
No Poetic labours will fill my Nights;
My Lips alone must all Passion ignite.
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Author:
Kevin Hulme (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: July 19th, 2025 18:27
- Comment from author about the poem: Sometimes Experience is better than Words. For it's better to stand out in the Sun than to describe it.
- Category: Love
- Views: 18
- Users favorite of this poem: Priya Tomar
Offline)
Comments3
Doing is understanding. To know something you must live it. Well said
Thank you. Glad you enjoyed it.
You are welcome
Experience is more imp. To feel something is imp
Well worded and clever metaphors
Thank you for Reading. Glad you enjoyed it.
Very welcome
Nothing can beat life experience itself, enjoyed the read
Thank you.
You are very welcome
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