Small kingdoms rise and fall
in blithe forests -
My spirit floats among branches,
alighting on each one,
dancing, as it always does.
at the center of everything
Fleetingly, paper bluebirds
design and dress my soul
to express itself fully
The woodsy tufted titmouse song
rides on invisible sauntering winds,
in the land where giant woolly
mammoths once roamed
Titmouse song
Our bodies are boats for identity's sake,
hulls sailing away with undertakings -
the writings of symphonies,
sculpting a man kissing a woman,
writing a great read
While orioles flash in the morning light
and thin lips of poppies grin,
we experience life in new ways,
not otherwise manifested
Secrets in empty seashells,
the hammer, stirrup, anvil
of the ear - bones
born from salty brine,
touched by light unknown
Only the faintest star
remembers
it's recent beginning
We are reinvented as falling rain
or crystals of ice
upon a bed of dying leaves
We are the waltz, the show,
the audience -
in an intelligent universe,
Knowledge and vision,
our salvation and reward,
we are part of forever's plan,
transcending all dimensions
in the form of man -
driving red fire engines
in vast snowy skies
To rest in the knowing,
there is no nothingness -
only new evolving tasks
of the spirit,
eclipsing time,
devoted to spinning pure love,
weaving on larger looms
in larger kingdoms,
beyond everyday matters
Sweet ivy climbs,
gathering its own momentum,
winding through spokes of silver,
frame of prose and rhyme
A universal trellis
made gritty by our humanness
yet sensitive,
earthy,
yet heavenly divine
At dversepoets.com today we were presented with artwork by Brooke Shaden to tease our imaginations in writing a poem or prose poem..
