With real Poetry, the words rarely are plain,
but a blend of colours,
the favored palate unique for each poet, poetess;
yet its more than the plain words that touch-
more; spirit thread, soul essence:
a weave of mind, spirit, and soul,
subtly, or overtly expressive
over and above the words I see;
They are the trellis, the skeleton to uphold,
yet more, they now are an entity-
spirit and soul inseparable;
layers in layers of meaning-
meaning buried in meaning,
a whorled fruit, the leaves to unwrap
revealing more depths, meanings
with each fragile layer touched.
©GayUganda 13 Oct. 08
1 comment:
For some reason, bitterness is clouding my perception. I am feeling too bitter, too sarcastic, for a while.
That is why I do not want to post, why I am not posting. When I see what I write in response to nevender's goading, I do not feel ok...!
Enjoy the poem.
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