Creator
wove the web
of poetry
by penning
with love
in the etherial airs
invisible to humans
dotting the blooms
with nectar springs
dusting the petals
free of nagging things
opened every womb
and implanted combs
of honey
in magic sacks
sealing with codes
charming the beings
to forget
until tested
in purity
Gods in mystery
wrote the secrecy
of seed to fruit
and rooted it
to earth
soiled the fertility
and smelled into the spontaneity
and finally slept tired
transforming into dreams
broken by rain drops
blessed with crops.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
broken by rain drops blessed with crops. and now we reap them day by day listening to what flowers say some folk talk whilst others pray for the muse to pass their way and send a poem on it's way from there to here in light of day from ethereal to hands of clay what will the postman bring today? .........