written January 2011
where poetry comes from
i hold this day in my open hand
hold this hour on the tip of my tongue
just the way I catch a snowflake there
or taste a ripe pear.
i hold this moment as it skates
on the thin ice of my irises
ready to let it fly free
ready to receive the next instant;
and as they land here
and leave tiny tracks
on my heart,
the poems i write are my attempts
to follow their scent trails
back to the divine.
erik99
Your attempts are crowned with poetic success, even if not hordes of admirers. But why not? - they don't know what they are missing.
Your attempts are crowned with poetic success, even if not hordes of admirers. But why not? - they don't know what they are missing.
Lovely poem...I enjoyed so much. Dorothy A Poet Who Loves To Sing