My love grows as bouquets for you today
you warm me a smile when hence you walk by
I care for you in the right type of way
you share your heart with me and I don't cry
I hope this lasts forever and we gleam
for that is what I hope to find from this
a prospect of hope we indeed do deem
a true story of peace and to find bliss
Forever ink blot on pages thus found
care so for affection in this story
authenticity will haunt you with sound
I will paint you a picture true glory
This I present to you with scent thereof
kissed with white sage to cleanse aura above
*I hope I finally wrote a sonnet correctly. Don't leave me guessing :)
White Sage
Date: 2/7/2016 5:13:00 PM
You need not ask James. Poetry is built of words that touch, words which the body feels, which the tongue taste and such beauty the eyes feast on, a path the fingers walk....and you've portrayed such excellence in your poems dear one.
Poetry is built
Of words that touch, words which the
Body feels and feels.
Words the tongue does taste
And such beauty eyes feast on
Path the fingers walk.
You dearly portrayed
Such excellence in your poems
Dear one you have done.
Thank you the real, true dear one, White Sage.
Jim Horn
Of all the creatures that
have crossed the page,
my favourite of all
is the White Sage
Passing through time
from magic sands,
it was gifted her Story
went through the lands
From trails of snails
and the twitter of birds,
nature alone
passed on the word
Her beauty does shine
and challenge the light,
the twinkle of eye
glows sapphire at night
A gown flowing free
of golden hue,
and the cord at waist
a rainbow of blues
Her voice does soothe
the furies of fate,
her touch will heal
an object of hate
Dreaming stories
to the four winds
telling and teaching
as time did begin
Weaving tales
that float in thin air,
riding a griffin
without any care
Painting the streaks
that tail the stars,
leaving a map
to treasure afar
Shaping a horn
of timeless life,
the unicorn born
did jump tonight
At night if I
sit statue still,
I see a griffin
crest the hill
And watching as magic
dazzles an age,
I sit in awe
of the White Sage