The Love Of Writing
Writing is my bold stroke coloured topographic passion,
that I warmly clasp with such boundless love,
whilst story-telling or in vibrant verse mode,
that novel gold plate medium for apt word transport,
one can effortlessly count on not to founder or malfunction,
when the mind is on that journey to dream enshrouded destination,
where emotional enrichment based on fountain jet outflow,
of luscious mood wave oozing from my ardent pen,
in tantalising tandem with diffuse metaphor so near,
the imagination my dedicated devotee divine,
together in a lifelong quintessential quest between ourselves,
and an augmented otherworldly picturesque brief to pursue,
in environment awash with transcendental jewel rim signposts,
day and night celestial enchantment on list for surreal lyric capture,
myself that earnest bard so awestruck by bewitching channels in stock,
affection has me in its Eiffel Tower grip,
as I endeavour to assemble, collate, synthesise gorgeous paragraphs,
to caress, bestow, display each tender visual encounter,
with my keyboard paintbrush dipped in multi-hue’d colloquialisms,
selective word search, ample phrase contingent,
enamoured idiom once coined,
hail the solemn spine bound reference book our voluminous assistant,
as I lavish fulsome praise on mountain peak upsweep at blue sky first light,
the sliver stream eddy on a green moss fleck rapid course,
a lowing cow whose hoofs depress the lush emerald paddock,
but one must not pretermit or abandon urban features as a source well,
with their fragrant coffee docks, that aroma as it wafts,
taste bud gourmet slices, a conversation magnet,
extolled in drama and music concert hall,
innovation hubs for one whose gift is investment with flare,
the hectic noisy streets at sunrise, fascinating footpath echo,
monuments aplenty to enthuse the scholar,
that building with an enigmatic past a sacred tomb,
wry jocose folklore of vocal city dweller in circulation,
lest we forget the mythic nightlife whose moonlit shadow cast a bouncy play,
on a final note the arch romantic down inside me turns to feelings,
oh how my heart pumps and pulses as I endeavour to sculpt touching lines,
in letters, cards, messages at christmas, Easter, birthdays, anniversaries where thoughtfulness counts,
writing , I adore you!
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