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sylvia_sharpentierPoems
Glory to the Christ for my poetic existence Glory to the Christ for my poetic resistance Glory to the Christ for my poetic persistence When high celestials call me a vortex of stars Pink heavens rain on me like vernal brume in a morn Bathed in petite waterfalls of grace, Fluttering raincoat in sweet petrichor, I dance to the music from above to the Romance and Romanesque of ethers existential A symbol of zeitgeist potential This life! This life! What a glamorous life! I see your fingerprints everywhere And I miss you without ever seeing you Like a farm boy fluting harmonica on the waves of yellow reeds I planted vines along a galactic string of beads Sailing across the big night sky Under the churning stars Where I'd calmly call myself A possibility beyond scars These pines, my gothic arches "You are my secret weapon," the Poet said Like the sound of pencil scribbling on a sketchbook Like the ritualistic depth of coffee in the morn A day is a blessing My life is a grace Gratitude to the Lord Jesus Christ the Son of God! Glory to the Christ for my poetic existence Glory to the Christ for my poetic resistance Glory to the Christ for my poetic persistence
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Oct 12, 2024
Oct 12, 2024 at 11:33 AM UTC
Blessings
Glory to the Christ for my poetic existence Glory to the Christ for my poetic resistance Glory to the Christ for my poetic persistence When high celestials call me a vortex of stars Pink heavens rain on me like vernal brume in a morn Bathed in petite waterfalls of grace, Fluttering raincoat in sweet petrichor, I dance to the music from above to the Romance and Romanesque of ethers existential A symbol of zeitgeist potential This life! This life! What a glamorous life! I see your fingerprints everywhere And I miss you without ever seeing you Like a farm boy fluting harmonica on the waves of yellow reeds I planted vines along a galactic string of beads Sailing across the big night sky Under the churning stars Where I'd calmly call myself A possibility beyond scars These pines, my gothic arches "You are my secret weapon," the Poet said Like the sound of pencil scribbling on a sketchbook Like the ritualistic depth of coffee in the morn A day is a blessing My life is a grace Gratitude to the Lord Jesus Christ the Son of God! Glory to the Christ for my poetic existence Glory to the Christ for my poetic resistance Glory to the Christ for my poetic persistence
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sylvia_sharpentier
Oct 12, 2024
Oct 12, 2024 at 11:33 AM UTC
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