The Poets Dance
Paint pots and magic at the stroke of a brush,
it’s the power of a picture for the lovers in lust.
The splashing of water and addition of choice,
it’s a musician’s beat, and the poets to rejoice.
Hungary caterpillars and the ladybugs dance,
it’s nature’s festival and the Devil’s mischance.
The warmth of summer’s night amongst a starry sky,
it’s the sparkle of lanterns drifting up to Shanghai.
The poets and the dreamers smear ink to the page,
it’s lyrical fluidity entwining a white witch’s sage.
The smells and the colours are a carnival of love,
it’s the power of family, drawing joyous tears up above.
Live in these moments and build memories to keep,
it’s time for our picture before we lose it to sleep.
So take my hand as we enter the tent to the light,
it’s an entrance to happiness and it’s just to your right.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
