Soup of Poetry

A simmering pot where words begin to blend, A broth of feelings where emotions tend To soften, meld, and yield a richer taste, No single flavor overpowering, no haste. A ladle dips and lifts a swirling hue, A crimson sorrow touched with morning dew, A golden joy in fragrant steam ascends, A bitter truth on which the palate bends. The stock is life with all its varied spice, The laughter sharp, the tears that pay the price. Experience, a bone that long has steeped, Releasing essence, secrets deeply kept. A dash of metaphor, a fragrant herb, To elevate the common, to disturb The surface calm, and let the meaning rise, Reflected in the reader's searching eyes. Some verses chunky with a solid core, Ideas weighty knocking at the door. While others thin, a delicate design, A whisper of a feeling truly fine. The heat of passion stirs the gentle brew, Awakening senses making spirits new. The slow reduction letting essence stay, Distilling moments from the passing day. And as we sip this liquid tapestry, Of rhythm, rhyme, and raw intensity, We find a comfort something to sustain, A nourishment for heart and soul and brain. For in this soup, no single voice prevails, But harmony where every nuance hails. A collective stirring, deep and ever true, The endless possibilities of me and you, Expressed in flavors subtle and profound, A Poetry's Soup where truths can be found. ©bfa040825