Poetry - with audio

audio link

Poetry is the innocence that lives in each of us.
It is that what makes us unique.
When we try to conform to something
Other than what we are, the poetry dies.
It is the stuff of kin and kindred,
The stories of our past and places.
The verse that springs up from inside of us
That is at once relevant, not relevant,
Romantic, silly and perhaps nonsensical or crazy.

Youth will not be conquered,
But overcomes with laughter and tears,
Joy and adventure; its tests the testy testers,
It mocks all the rules of love and life.
The jasmine blooms and so it is with the little ones.
Playing at this and that, daring to love and to win.
The clouds yield to blue skies and
The wind is content to stroke many
Ruddy cheeks and fluff flowing hair
With the purity of a brooklet traveling through
A bedroom window in the the waking of the day,
And in the waving of wildflowers afield.

Age is the platform that we arrive at
While striving for success.
It welcomes us on the bus
That may be going nowhere and
Turns many into window shoppers
Observing the ever changing scenery.
Alas, the bus always crashes in the end,
with great drama, and usually some tears.
But all at once we are free to exit the bus
And play in the spring sunshine once again.
No longer do we tire, watch TV,
Read magazines, pay taxes or need.

Love is that thing which gives life and breath
To all that lives in this pasture.
Love imbues the spirit with being and hope.
It is the glue that holds the cosmos in place
And allows for creatures to be made
From the remnants of cosmic plasma
Cataclysmic explosions light-years past

Love can be seen in the face of a child,
The jump of the sea creature,
Sought out in satin glowing sunset
Heard in the song of the gentle birds
Or in the storm that replenishes the deep
All mountains, fields, creatures and man.

Love is a warrior set about to heal, reveal,
To make new until all is well
Until the hunger of time is stilled
Before the caressing voice of eternity.