a blissful beginning

 

They called it wording in the midst of phrases…

Moles of molded minds that sprint to print majestic tunes…

They called her poetry…

A pottery with words that would sell your soul and free you mind to word-string that sting you along…

and aloft you go.

Brittle sweet memories entertain her terrain,

The reign of her ringing voice-

And my head his vacuum to all this s**t…

Mind spitted her voice kisses my psyche,

Now my blood has given birth to her existence,

- When for she appears it run…

It whales for her touch,

 Her voice makes me sick…

She’s so deep,

I weep.

Stop this…

Words again… and again hearts beats that echo her stature…

 I have high blooded pressure,

High minded measures that mat these matters…

S**t this rhymes…

Now I feel like a poet with a pot of words in his head…

Hey stop this…

Poetry calls…

She appears and my blood oozes words of her existence…

This body is her-

Is she he?-

Is she me?-

Or am I he?-

 

It is …..

 A blissful beginning.

Reviews

[ms.trelly]

nice....it flows well.... i like the diction

[Salvatore Buttaci]

Good rhythmic writing.

[Holly]

it may be that I'm a simpleton, but this one seems complex in a way that passes right over my little head. beautiful though.

[London Calling]

O! Very good! I love how unconventionally structured it is. Flowing and just put together so well.
Thanks for the FYI on this poem!
LC :)