June 14, 2013 by phicks2012
As many of you may, or may not, have noticed by now, I sort of like to write poetry, and my chosen style is metered and rhyming verse. Okay, so I compose blank verse very occasionally (as the poets among you doubtless know, that’s unrhymed iambic pentameter), but I favor rhyme and meter by a huge stretch, and when the muse strikes me that’s what I generally write.
There’s just no telling what will inspire me to set pen to paper — or fingers to keyboard — but it happens fairly often, and that’s been the case for some years now, so I have a lot of verses to share. Here’s another, and I hope you find some enjoyment in it.
There are ears that hear thunder away from the storms,
When the skies arch unburdened and clear.
There are eyes that see mountains where none ever formed,
And where not even hillocks appear.
There are those that scent foulness, corruption and rot
Where roses’ soft sweetness is spilled
They taste anger and fury and in things they should not,
And see faces with animus filled.
But we should not craft tempests where sweet breezes blow,
Nor make of soft showers a flood.
And we should not build mountains where hills need not grow,
Nor fain mistake streamlets for blood.
We should savor the flowers that grow on the mead,
Where nothing but beauty can dwell,
And look not for anger when there is no need
To labor ‘neath enmity’s spell.
Hear the songs of the wind through forests in spring,
And the voices that thrill us in song
See the colors of rainbows and birds on the wing,
Where kindness and beauty belong.
Smell the fragrance of spices and grass newly mown,
Away from false fears and alarms.
Taste the flavor of berries where rage is unknown,
Fall asleep in serenity’s arms.
[02 May, 2012]