top of page

Oh, poetry.



Oh, poetry, the language of my creative soul,

Word art that completes, makes life whole.

Words dance to the tune of the rhythm and rhyme.

My precious moments, captured, frozen in time.


Words echo love, often they echo pain.

Mysteries of life, what’s lost, what’s gained.

Poetry paints an illusionary picture upon every line,

Worlds of sensory beauty, both yours and mine.


Poetry is a way to express deep feelings inside,

Sharing thoughts, letting dark troubles slide,

Touching the hearts of those who graciously read,

For those needing hope, we’re planting a seed.


Oh, poetry, you inspire with a desire,

Lighting an inner flame, a flickering fire,

A voice for those marginalised, for those unheard,

The world is less absurd, a little less blurred



3 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

George Orwell 1903-1950

Young man. E. A. Blair. Literary genius An uncommon flair. Each page, inspired, His soul laid bare, Dystopia pondered From his polished wooden chair. He wrote of men Who lived without a prayer, P.S. B

Comments

Rated 0 out of 5 stars.
No ratings yet

Add a rating
bottom of page