How to read a poem.

Speak of love
but whisper
close eyes
and soothe a heart.
Let each vowel find a foothold
in a trembling lash of wetness.

Speak of love
but silent
with a hand upon one cheek
as  memories paint an eyelid
with something that drifts a smile
and leaves a pattern traceable.

Speak of love
but savor
each sip a dew of thought.
Let wide the gates of fancy,
unbridled passion.
Ignite a page.

Speak of love
but whisper
let each stanza turn to stardust
as miracles perch dainty
upon a mind contemplation.
Understanding now complete.

Published by B

I am B (call me BB and I will gut you) I like daisies, books, and men who understand the wisdom of Kermit the Frog. I refer to my favorite person as TMW5T Why? because if he had 6 I'd call him TMW6T, duh!!

9 thoughts on “How to read a poem.

  1. Once upon a time, upon a hill stood a tree
    from this beautiful marvel of nature sprouted Bree

    She fell to the ground
    creating a silent sound

    Yes, the landing was quiet
    just as is she, though inside she’s a riot

    Bree must have walked for a ways
    for I found her wandering amidst a flowery maze

    In the field of flowers she fit right in
    and there was a rose contest I wanted to win

    So I reached for her and out I did pick
    what many people see as one cool chick!

    And even though she came from a quiet land
    I often can sense her feelings by the touch of her hand

  2. You’re welcome. I’m glad you liked it. I have two more poems of the same genre if you don’t mind me posting them here.

    I was going to delete them because if my current girlfriend came across them it could cause some confusion. But after re-reading them I think they’re too good to permanently throw out.

  3. To start a poem, I sometimes don’t know
    But often the words fall, once the ink does flow

    Nature is a good way
    To create something to say

    Now with that in mind
    The words will be easy to find

    How about a star?
    Away, Away, but I’d prefer Bree not be as far

    That star is pretty and bright
    I’ll keep Bree closer with all of my might
    prefer to keep this beauty in plain sight
    her mind as free as a kite

    Never hitting a brick wall
    Like Bree’s, which could be glass and afraid it could fall

    That’s okay, not a big deal
    I too have a past I’d sometimes not feel
    Two lifetimes of pain yet to heal
    Open wounds that take eternity to seal

    Time will take care, make her feel better
    In the meantime, I’ve written this letter

  4. I’d write you a song
    A beautiful one, very long

    I’d carry your purse
    Throw in a verse

    I’d brush your hair
    Although to my eyes it always looks fair

    If tears were to ever visit your eyes
    I’d chase them away, or bind them with ties

    If upon your face sat a frown
    I’d move the Earth to turn it upside down

    If I saw a wound upon you exposed to air
    I’d treat it gently, wanting to close it with care

    If I were a true writer
    Trust that my poetry would be much tighter

    If this pen would work worth a damn
    I wouldn’t feel like stabbing it through a ham

    I’d make sweet words to form a book
    Then present it so you could take a look

    Another period, another end, another last
    My poems usually stop pretty fast

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