IT’S THE POETRY OF LIFE

It’s the poetry of life painting like the frost
on the tip of autumn’s breeze.
It’s the poetry of life found and never lost
Feeling comfortably at ease
Like a lazy summer’s day
Like two children lost in play
Like the story never told
from the yarn of times of old.
It’s the poetry of like bringing everything in view
Changing older thoughts to new
Warming winter’s bitter cold
As a storm comes raging through
to cleanse the atmospheric blues.
Improvising an esoteric line
to unleash the mysterious and sublime.
To guide our pathways as we cross
the miraculous haunting hues.
Sweet Apollo sends his muse
flowing with an inspiration
that springs me at of bed
and I stand awake in wonder.
It’s the poetry of life with an invitation
of what could lie ahead
as we never go asunder.
It’s the poetry of life
Singing like a choir on Christmas day
It’s the poetry of life burning like a fire
as mild as Mother Earth’s red clay.
Like finding the last chord
to harmonize our love’s desire
and to accentuate our interplay.
As spontaneous as a new rebirth
we sense the reaction prior
to our fantasies of yesterday.
Amidst the middle of the strife
comes a spoon without the knife.
With the riddle of the pipe
is a dream that’s nearly ripe.
Bringing mysteries to light
as the fiddler grabs his rosin
heating up our night.
It’s the loss of misery
though a trick of witchery
that leaves us ignoring caution.
Then the breakers rush to shore
The ebbing tide is now in sight
Enunciating our liberty
is the fairy we adore.
Beckoning the holy hosts
we certainly will implore
the coincidental synchronicity
of this poetry of life.
With a magical stroke of sensitivity
our inner optimism will ignite.
The quest of serendipity
will lead us to the coast
where the lonelier have settled
to keep their hopes alive.
They received a spirit’s vessel
which was tumbled and tossed afloat.
As the spring begins to blossom
we wipe the water from our eyes.
The awakening of the fertile flowers
asserts our dreamful hours.
As a peacock spreads its wings to revive
the coloristic panorama, quite awesome
as the prism’s spectrum will imminently surprise.
Like a pageant on display
depicting a series of streaming rays
illuminating a crystal boat
which embarks through a morning’s haze.
It’s the poetry of life that recites such golden verses
giving us faith and hope with directions
pointing in every which way among us
to see what perfection suddenly comes to surface.
It’s the poetry of life painting like the frost
on the tip of autumn’s breeze.
It’s the poetry of life found and never lost
amongst the people with a mission of eternal peace.