Notes About The Poem
A little quick scribble for Constance La France's Zen, Zinnia, Zepyr contest.
Zephyr
Some express their pain,
some sacrifice it for others,
only poets turn it into poetry - (my quote)
Only poets can turn words into poems,
so those who are not poetic
can feel them in a beautiful way.
I'll always hide behind metaphors,
as I'm just a zestful zephyr,
trying to bring calm among
a tempest of mood swings.
When fate floats like charcoal puffs,
a tender touch helps to release
suppressed drops of sorrow
so I ponder, why I remain
emotionally challenged.
Every night the moon glows among the stars,
but is powerless against them burning away.
I find comfort in knowing some transform
into supernovas, just like ink becoming a poem.
We all crave for enough fuel to keep us alive,
but there is always that unfinished thought,
which suffers from a premature end.
When I'm lost in a land of windstorms,
I yearn to have the strength of Zephyrus,
hoping my soft whispers are not
misunderstood among self centred gusts.
I'll always be an atonement of nature,
as everything I long to do is a curse of selflessness.
Sunrise is the most stunning 'hello,'
whilst sunset is the most magnificent 'goodbye.'
But you are never guaranteed daydreams at dawn,
nor clarity of compassion at dusk,
so I'll keep blowing like a gentle breeze,
as no matter in which direction the winds blow,
I'll keep hope in finding a way home.
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