Passion
When poets mention passion,
they mean a million ways to set the sky on fire.
Ecstasy is in the meadow buttercup
like a hidden jewel.
Bodies tumbling into willing flesh,
through a waterfall of spirit,
love making in the dark or light.
The joy to paint love over a wanting eye.
Writing with a pen of melting gold.
Passion is a fire starter,
firefighters of the world cover their eyes.
Passion is a prayer to a prayer.
Passion is that towering moment,
when the poet knows, just knows,
that he or she
are now, and always will be,
the vocal lips of God.
Copyright © Eric Ashford | Year Posted 2024
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment