Somewhere between words and a phrase
And images that waltz on a page
Naked or masked, with a ** and a hum
Read me in the lines of a poem.
Curled up with flair in cursive ink
Or in italics that make one think
In bold scribble of soulful blues
Meet me in a syllable of haiku.
In sounds and rhyme, in free flowing feet
In rolled up, crumpled paper sheets
On kissed ends or in couplets terse -
Trace me in a little verse.
Midst damp and broken metaphors
In sentences loud or hushed whispers
Hidden behind some quaint smilie
Find me in poetry.
Poesy — a world large enough to hold
Sordid moments in its fold
Sweetness of life and broken hearts
Harsh reality and runaway art.
Mar 31, 2025
Mar 31, 2025 at 11:15 AM UTC
Somewhere between words and a phrase
And images that waltz on a page
Naked or masked, with a ** and a hum
Read me in the lines of a poem.
Curled up with flair in cursive ink
Or in italics that make one think
In bold scribble of soulful blues
Meet me in a syllable of haiku.
In sounds and rhyme, in free flowing feet
In rolled up, crumpled paper sheets
On kissed ends or in couplets terse -
Trace me in a little verse.
Midst damp and broken metaphors
In sentences loud or hushed whispers
Hidden behind some quaint smilie
Find me in poetry.
Poesy — a world large enough to hold
Sordid moments in its fold
Sweetness of life and broken hearts
Harsh reality and runaway art.
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