Poetry is a language Of powerful thoughts and imagery, it can strike in the heart of man, it can shape lives and actions. Then can it not be used to enhance to the finder qualities of man? Rather than providing shallow enjoyment? And promoting the baser instincts? If I was a poet, I would like my words To compell the soul, To pursue the true pupose of existence. Oh, what wouldn’t I give to go on collecting my reward, Beyond this life....

Wednesday, June 22, 2005

The Sky

16-08-04

A golden orb spans the horizon,
Morning creeping; night long gone.
Tufts of white marshmallow,
Invade a sea of blue,
An amazing design over-head,
Suspended without glue.
When the lights are out,
Human beings lost in slumber,
Look up at the brilliant performance,
Stars, plants and galaxies in splendour.

posted by »|m|u|n|i|r|a|« at 10:40 PM

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