The Words We Pen
We pick up the pen,
in a mood of zen,
melding with the flow,
of bliss beats mellow.
With love as God’s gift,
in currents adrift,
we softly emote
hymns that angels wrote.
Words thus not our own,
by grace inwards blown,
crystallise in shape,
that leaves us agape.
13-June-2022
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.
