Poetry
The love of my life
The blood that runs through my veins
From my beating heart,
You torture my pen to bleed undying
Poetry
The voice of the voiceless,
The sword of the weak
You create a world of perfection,
A world where lines are immortal
Where rhymes become the sweetest song,
Where stanza throb with the rhythms of beat
And meters running down like a soldier's feet
Poetry
You touch my soul,
You revive my dying heart
You mend the broken,
Painting the unspoken words of an artist
Poetry
Your ink consoles the widow,
Finds the lost,
Help contain the pain of an agonist
Poetry
You name love, roses
You call precious, rubies
You create the world just the way you want it;
The golden sky
Dancing cloud
Rainbow apparel
Thunder roar
Your words are imaginary
Yet, could be seen
Poetry
You speak the truth,
Through metaphor
You hail the king,
With eulogy
Your sarcasm chastens and straightens the folly
You Lift the fool
With your brave irony
Poetry
So much pleasures
You give,
My worlds of words
Ah!
Without you,
men lack expression
The beautiful of life would have no color,
Streams of water would never chant,
The glowing sun will never smile,
Our precious ink will never cry
Poetry
You're six letter words,
Yet, seas of letter words
In such tranquility you revolve,
All things lose it taste with time
But your honey paste, still remains
Along generational lines,
Like the sharp drop of lime
Your infinity is bond with time,
Your ways are disposed through mime
You are ancient, you're old, still bold and prime
I adore you for your great sublime,
Your rhymes flows in seraphic chime
Poetry
My blood, my soul, My world.
©iam.a.poet
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