You waken the poet
You waken the poet in me,
and trepidation seizes me
for, if I were to follow him
I'd surely scorch my wings
from flying to close to the sun.
Poetry is only a prose
deserving of a unique form
for, if this were but an essay
who is there that could hear
these accents of eternity?
The rhyme means but little
the rhythm is the center thing
for, if it were not for a time
ev'ry measure in place
how would the essential appear?
So it is in living
the yin and the yang of it all
for, if not for give and receive
how to see dark from light
and know our birth from our death?
Garnet Shaw Robbie
the monarch
You rest upon my hand
a monarch butterfly
gently flexing your wings
such fragile beauty
perfectly designed
you wait
for that precise moment
a gentle zephyr
a sun warmed kiss
a call from the universe
I scarcely breathe
my eyes fixed upon you
longing to keep you forever
love catches in my throat
but you are not mine
and never were
In this brief time together
we taught each other
love
beauty and truth
Now
I must let you go
trust
that one day
you will return
Yet while you still remain
the merest touch upon my skin
you have my whole attention
I dare not breathe or blink an eye
lest you disappear
and I realise with great sorrow
I have not had time
to say goodbye.
Amanda Edwards
If I
give you a few coins
live my life in luxury
and leave you in penury
did I give ought of me
or salve to conscience?
or if I play a victim
and then label you as bad
dispense my forgiveness
walk away feeling glad
did I truly forgive ?
If I give tender care
where love enfolds me
is love already shared ?
Do I have love to spare
for those in dire need ?
If I let thoughts rise,
to higher self and love
is it big ego on display
when my words balloon
into the ether today?
If I let my pride feed
energy to fear and power
prop up leaders who divide
puffed up – how can I see
you and i are One humanity?
Gael Bage
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