I Do Not Think Poem by Raymond Farrell

I do not think
The struggle to impart meaning
Is helped
By embellishment
The commandeering
Of every adjective or adverb
In the dictionary
To try and make a point
Is often a distraction
Taking over center stage
Causing the meaning to be lost
There is natural beauty
In the bold bare face
Of simplicity
We see it everyday
A field of wild flowers
Growing up haphazardly
From seeds blow by the wind
Dropped by birds
Scuffed off the soles
Of passing boots
The color of these
When in bloom
Gives off a radiance and beauty
Unequalled by any
Painting
Hanging in the Louve
And the face
Of a beautiful woman
Untouched by makeup
Stands in stark contrast
To the vain attempts
Of others trying
To enhance their looks
By artificial means
A simple bouquet of roses
Or the words
I love you
When spoken from the heart
Are worth more
Than the gold of fools
Or the diamonds
Of usurpers.