
"Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself.
Each day has enough trouble of its own."
~Matthew 6:34
Poetic Masterpiece
To write a poetic masterpiece;
What a lofty dream!
A piece of paper of lines a curves
To calm one’s mind or pinch one’s nerves;
To lift one up or bring one down;
oh, just think, the splendid sound
of words read loud
and proud
to all
of words, great, high,
of words, low, small.
To spin a tale of sunny days
With ground so warm; so many ways
to enjoy the world and all it is--
people, places, things--and this!
The words themselves: your soul they lift,
and happy memories through they sift
and bring the best
the rest
all gone
a memory so far, so long.
To let flow forth your heart’s cry,
To put to paper and let die
the painful things, thoughts so sad,
melancholy, even mad;
the pain, the tears; oh heavy heart!
so burdened down! but now it starts
to heal,
reveal
the side of life
that’s beautiful, though filled with strife.
A masterpiece, yes, it would be
Could one write such great poetry:
Loosed in ink the mysteries
of the mind’s restless seas,
the waves of life and troughs of death;
The syllables on every breath
exhale
a tale
so wonderful
it reaches to your very soul.
Indeed, a high hope it must be
To write such perfect poetry.
~toodles! 