I travel in words, as some
Would travel on feet
I call my home, the written word
Though in her curious rooms
I’ve found a part of myself
The Inn to which I am most fond
Where in language I make love
With the alchemy of his world
This brief biology that sparks
Too much feeling for this vessel
There terms of syntax to light
My living days, alphabets in their
Fair rotation to live out the Seasons
Of a heart, below a Sun
That shines as golden as ancient poetry
Every dawn beckons me to
Re-create myself and silence the old
With but a touch of my glowing
Lantern to shine the hidden parts
Between the lines and inside the words
And scope the trove beneath
Every Buttercup sentance
Every slip of the tongue
On smooth transparent simplicity
That oversets the Rose of our lyricism
And dangles like a moon our
Inner skin for all to see in verse.
Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Mystical-forest-429691413
So thoughtful, so true.
all our privilege
~
to read
exquisite rare imagery
Thank you Indrajit, imagery is sometimes my boon.
Very nice images.
Wondering if there is a typo or two ‘….alphabets in their’ is there instead? and sentance? π
Ah thanks, I will have to correct these soon! π
I just love your writing, LOVE IT.
Plus, I, too, am a poetry addict!!!
Great well said! It’s not always a healthy addiction but has a lot to offer π
i know, right? because of reasons! top secret, but spiritually maximally fulfilling reasons! i am addicted for life. with no plans to go to “poetry rehab!”