who would be alone
with your eyes asking
"tell me what hurts"
red knife green fork
the day is a dish
of sorrow and delight
who could feel like stone
with your eyes inviting
and brightly waiting
blue knife pink fork
the day is a meal
of thoughts in flight
with the memory
of men aiming
trying to shoot
a grey dove a clay dove
with bright red words
my voice is galloping
my words are kneeling
but who would not
feel condoned
with your eyes
blurting spurts
of understanding
for my heel my feel
white knife brown fork
the day is a wish
and you are the cutlery
thoughtful slicing
through my speech
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A wonderful high art poem! A masterpiece that slices through the soul to enrapture the thankful mind to gladden the grateful awakened spirit! Glad to have a wonderful poet to gift us with the magic of beautiful woven words of your talented magnitude! Till the next wonderful read.I take my hat off to you!