Poetry

I open my eyes to see beauty around, A blood kissed rose bared to the sun, Her scent traversing the summer breeze. I open my eyes to see poetry everywhere. An old woman talking of the past, As history comes alive in her words, I watch her eyes dance between sadness and joy, And realise poetry is the only sound. The smell of clean sheets upon the bed, The crisp feel of linen yet to be touched, In those fleeting dreams when love was here, I remember that poetry is in all things. Form:Free Verse

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Willie Wright

Date: 8/8/2012 4:17:00 PM

The last line says it all. Very imaginative.

Robert Ludden

Date: 7/29/2012 4:01:00 PM

Writing is the inspiration in many ways. You have shown us another.

Jemmy Farmer
Date: 8/2/2012 9:29:00 AM

Thank you Robert. I think as writers and poets we self train ourselves to be aware of the little things that can bring a big thing to life on the page

Josie Whitehead

Date: 7/28/2012 10:12:00 AM

Jeremy - I really love your poem. People sometimes ask poets where they get their inspiration, and the answer is "everywhere of course." I've even written a poem based on hearing a few words someone said on a train, ie "Well, what was the best part". I think they were talking about a holiday, but it made a lovely poem guessing. I think you've done a good job here.

Jemmy Farmer
Date: 8/2/2012 9:33:00 AM

Thank you Josie, snippets of overheard conversation are such a wonderful resource I think.