This weeks theme is "words of wisdom" I wrote a poem a few weeks ago that possibly makes me sound like a deranged hippy, but there's always danger of that with me. Anyhow, the meaning becomes increasingly clear. Here goes;
I am the voice that whispers in the autumn breeze,Singing soft in patterned poetry that rustles the leavesThat clings to the branches, glinting gold in the faded sun
Catching your ear as you walk by, in a life where you run.
I am the voice that crashes in the stormy sea
Painting tapestries of dark waves that roam free
Glazed by the silver moon, and stars that weave stories
Of times that have passed, and my once were glories.
I am the spirit that dances in the sensuous fire,
Snaring your gaze from the sharp metal worlds myre
Crackling with life, wound into each burning colour,
Calling you home, to live a path that’s much fuller.
I am the spirit that is present at night
Soft in the darkness, softly breathing light
Present in the smoke that scents the cold air
And in the lady in your arms, and her curls that are fair
And I am the spirit that writhes within you
Hot in your veins, fighting, coursing through
Blood that’s etched in the earth and your beating heart
The breaking sinew between worlds apart
Alas, you do not use the rich senses I gave
And within this metal world you built, it’s not easy to save
The past that is waning with the fiery wrath
That rips up my woodlands, each other, and the path
That leads to me; your daughter, your mother, your friend
I could be there on your journey, and help at each bend
But alas you don’t hear me, nor do you dance
Giving my beauty in nature not even a glance
I give you this lesson whilst I am fading away
Nothing but the walls you built are dangerous, and the way
You slaughter each other for grain, money or even your opinion
The blood and sap runs thick, nothing is worth this silly dominion
Psychotic, chaotic, your minds are not healthy
And still this obsession with sex and getting wealthy
I gave you this body to use, not destroy or worship like slaves
Bloody hell, what are you doing, you find all sorts of ways to meet your graves.
Death is not the end, but it isn’t the beginning,
And why do you look smug, you’re clearly not winning.
I ask you a favour once tonight, just one small thing,
Watch the sunset go down, and the way it glows on the sea birds wing.
:)