Poetry is a dish,
Tastier than fried fish,
When I write a poem or a few lines of innocence,
To express my conscience,
I pick petals of some thoughts
From the garden of mind,
With great care them I bind,
I get them washed
And put them into pot heart,
Burn the fire of emotions,
Mix spoonfuls of similes and metaphors,
And spices of diction
Serve them to my friends
In plates sketched with images
From the garden of sweet love with the muse of your mind. Nice work.
Great imagery with nice free flowing thoughts..........I loved it, Thanks for sharing.10
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
When I write a poem or a few lines of innocence, To express my conscience, I pick petals of some thoughts From the garden of mind, burn them in the fire of passion, similes and metaphors diction. then i serve..... beaaaaaaaaatiful my dear poetess. thank you. tony