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Picture Credits:
Some are of the opinion that all true poetry
Must be read out loud as spoken words
Metamorphic morning dispersing evening’s shadows
Aurora’s surging sunrise scattering gold-dust in the waking eye
Minerva’s Melodies of Wisdom leave the earthbound ear enthralled
but when the curtain falls, the one-act play is scarce remembered
Hours can be whiled away, savored like the finest wine
Memories set in rampant colors or basic black and white
Be it books or magazines or graffiti written on the subway walls
The imagination of the reader’s mind is tantalized
by captured words upon the poet’s chosen page
insights rich with vintage language, moods engraved within the heart
and soul
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