The Secret Life of Poetry,
Poets can like by magic be,
All that they ever want to be:
A flying leaf of red and gold,
A sailing ship, all new and bold,
A crying bird that passes by,
And leaves a message in the sky,
A multicolored butterfly,
That makes you dream and softly sigh,
A brave new Light for Liberty,
Saying ' All Men are now born Free',
And Liberty to Love the Wind,
With Love so pure that never sinned,
Although they know this swaying love,
Will never be their lifelong win,
The Wind is free cannot be tamed,
As there are loves that can't be named.
You orchestrated the imagery so perfectly while hiding a secret life within it all. Wonderful poem, I enjoyed reading it, Sandra.
as there are loves that can't be named Hmmmm? I would be fun to try to make a comprehensive list...
Sandra, wonderfully you painted the world of the poets where anyone can create anything freely with the power of imagination.I'm hypnotized.Love N love for you!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
a poet can take numerous forms.....poem writing, similar to painting gives you a canvas to paint upon.............lovely