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sgholterPoems
I witnessed the calf's first steps On matchstick legs. Mother's tongue towel; A giant of love and pride. There was poetry inside. I've seen deaf lovers gesticulate a Love story across a room full Of walls of noise and chatter. Like smugglers they would hide, Sneaking poetry inside. I've seen old mothers stand, Back straight, denying war Machinery access. A protective circle of lives, Around the Poetry inside. I've poked at something Dead in a ditch With a stick just to look at the Maggots and bugs Couldn't help it though I tried; There was poetry inside. I traced her face with mine, I gazed into Her spacious eyes as we'd Unite and move together And that warmth could not have lied; There was poetry inside. Each thing a gallery, that's how I see The world -as if I read it- Which I swear by and abide: It is glaced with art and colour; It has poetry inside.
0
Apr 12, 2014
Apr 12, 2014 at 10:16 PM UTC
Poetry Inside
I witnessed the calf's first steps On matchstick legs. Mother's tongue towel; A giant of love and pride. There was poetry inside. I've seen deaf lovers gesticulate a Love story across a room full Of walls of noise and chatter. Like smugglers they would hide, Sneaking poetry inside. I've seen old mothers stand, Back straight, denying war Machinery access. A protective circle of lives, Around the Poetry inside. I've poked at something Dead in a ditch With a stick just to look at the Maggots and bugs Couldn't help it though I tried; There was poetry inside. I traced her face with mine, I gazed into Her spacious eyes as we'd Unite and move together And that warmth could not have lied; There was poetry inside. Each thing a gallery, that's how I see The world -as if I read it- Which I swear by and abide: It is glaced with art and colour; It has poetry inside.
sgholter
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sgholter
Apr 12, 2014
Apr 12, 2014 at 10:16 PM UTC
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