Copyright © Shantanu Baruah
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It does not matter how slowly you go,
so long as you do not stop.
~ Confucius ~
______________
I’ll take your breath away as I enter the room.
I don’t want to draw attention to myself.
I stand on my soapbox and preach my causes.
I stick my head in the sand and ignore the pain of the chaos around me.
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Those shimmering lights
dancing,
teasing,
turning
every flicker of light
falling on me.
bending
teasing
and birthing
a new poem,
a new love,
caressing a new emotion
every time I look at you
those ripples in the pond
speaks of my love for you.
Photo by Emily Goodhart on Unsplash
“And darling, as long as you still want me,
I will always be yours.”
These pieces of us. Sometimes I think they’re trying to pull away like a flock of birds. Flying away, leaving with nothing left between us. And that thought scares me. Because deep down, I know what you mean to me. I know what I mean to you, even if I have doubts at times. So maybe that’s what bothers me so much when I feel like the essence of what we were is floating away. Because maybe it is. We are different people than we were. But that doesn’t mean we are drifting apart. Those pieces taking flight are just the old pieces of us. And in the end, what remains, will be stronger. And darling, I assure you, as long as you still want me, I will always be yours.
© Sarah Doughty
Always yours…
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Unremarkable
but to the day worn weary
I am perfect respite,
healer,
ambrosia,
ecstasy,
nirvana.
I am deep conversation,
friendship as gathered at table,
shoulder for tears,
therapy.
Do not judge hastily,
a nondescript teacup on the outside,
my beauty lies on the inside.
©Paul Cannon
Paul,
pvcann.com
“What a benediction is this fragrance of the early morning!
The vernal grass fills the whole atmosphere
as with a shower of sweetness.”
~ Sarah Smiley
Text & image source: ॐ Simplicity, Elegance and Grace of Nature ॐ https://www.facebook.com/ॐ-Simplicity-Elegance-and-Grace-of-Nature-ॐ-1594041744215476/
Don’t Miss this great post from Paul Lenzi!!!
I write this with no claims to education or mastery of the art form. Rather, as an autodidact poet-in-training, I am ever humbled by my own efforts at poetry. It is an exquisite obsession whose practice, over lengthy time, has revealed some of its truths to me. I offer them here for consideration or reflection.
If poetry will ever find wider appeal, garner deeper affection, two things appear necessary. One is perhaps obvious, the other less so. Poetry needs to be read by people other than poets. In order for more of that to happen, poetry needs to be better understood by poets themselves.
Poetry is an eccentric literary species, with each poem an organic entity possessed of its idiosyncratic metaphysical biology. It is as different from prose as are mice from men. The taxonomy of poetry, I believe, has more affinity with drama, and even more affinity with musical…
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I touched the earth of your soul with gentleness,
as you touched mine
a bed of passion unfenced,
and together we sowed a myriad seeds
where bloom perennial intimacies of love.
©Paul Cannon
Paul,
pvcann.com
The Reluctant Poet 