Informative phrases laid down,
words etched in granite and stone,
unadorned in black and white,
prose machines pumping out prose,
rhetoric flying out of
mechanical pens,
no visions up ahead,
no wind beneath their wings,
no inspiration to lead them along,
standing alone in the cold,
 
vulnerable to the touch of beauty
with wings of orange and blue,
to feeling it’s presence in the midst,
the softening of its smile,
the scent of the air,
the flavor of its breath,
the sweetness of its prose,
and how it files down
the jagged edges of rhetoric
with love and finesse,
 
words in their poeticized state,
moving from the hard to the soft,
the pale to the colorful,
the bland to the sweetened,
the elaborated to their abridgement,
the abridged to their epitomic state,
 
rhetoric into poetry, words into sound,
sound into silence, silence into Brahma,
religion into love, love into more love,
love in the air of poetry, the silence,
the feeling of being lifted, floating,
and drifting out in deep space,
the home of the
new poetry and beyond.

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Robert L. Martin
2 months

Thanx Nelson. Love's infinity

Nelson D Reyes
2 months

Love into more love...
yes that’s in essence is what poetry is.

Like. Thanks Robert

Robert L. Martin
2 months

Thanx Charlotte. That's so kind of you to say that.

Charlotte B. Williams
2 months

Thanks for the lesson. Bravo.

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