My aunt was asked to read a poem at a coffee morning this Monday so she phoned me looking for a few of mine to choose from. As I transcribed some of my words, I remembered the utter joy of poetry. Here’s one I wrote a few years ago…
Give her beauty and passion
and she sparks into flight
like a butterfly on acid
throwing light with her wings.
Oh how she casts rainbows
in the tears that spill
and plucks golden harps
of melodious laughter.
Her fires blaze in the hot eyes
of a fervent lover
while pleasure drops in sweat
She lurks amongst the Autumn leaves
gurgles in a virgin stream and
leaps off purple mountain peaks.
I see her fall with the whispering mists
and rise on the coin of sunshine.
Dizzily spinning beside moon and stars,
her silhouette rides angry clouds
that rage against the tranquil skies.
She swoops through many foreign lands
stealing romance and sweet aromas
then feeds me words not yet understood.
Forever roaming the ocean
glancing at corners
urgently probing for
just one sliver of poetry
to cover the silence
of this naked page
and awaken the butterflies
so I don’t plunge