Of your artistic shapes and moods,
pictorial playground of the azure skies,
lofted oceans and soft white waves,
home of dreams and imagination,
where riders ride on white stallions,
with scepters pointing to the firmament,
with plumes of silken rivulets trailing,
your cottony faces and contented smiles,
your protruding chest of pure white silk,
your proud submission to the sacred winds,
your moods propelled by the heat of the day
and the cold, cold northern winds,
your love affair with the mad tempest,
singing with the thunder,
dancing with the lightening,
binding with the heated passion,
twisting through the black and gray
until you weaken and grow tired,
kissing the feet of the angels in the blue,
riding on the smiles of the rainbow,
the handiwork of the almighty,
dancing the “Dance of the Zephyrs,”
the returning to the soft winds
and their fragrant breath,
a child of their earthly authority,
in love with the ever shifting skies,
and the permanence of the heavens,
the almighty’s land above all else,
above Mother Nature’s home
on the outskirts of heaven,
ever shifting, riding, floating,
moving, dancing, waiting, smiling,
changing, drifting...............
As featured in "Blue Lake Review."
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Nelson D Reyes
over 1 yearGlad to see this poem about the greatest art canvas this side of our galaxy. Fleeting as the art and poetry are that occur each passing moment still the images somehow stir up some emotions in you to make a time of your life on a given day. Oftentimes we are oblivious to it we just carry on with the daily routines. And that’s OK.
Thanks Robert. Like.
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Robert L. Martin
over 1 yearWhen I first look at the sunrise every day, I get inspiration for a new poem.