Awakened by
scratching scribble
of pen dancing calligraphy in ink,
its nascent futilities
are left enceinte
with the muse’s ramblings…


Poetry is Born…

as moonbeam’s quill
brushes bosom
of violet ocean in
sheaves of shimmers,
breathing pearls
into oysters’ uteri.

poetry flows
from my pen’s nib
like a dream reborn,
a fountain 
rippling out to
vent pent up emotion.

with feelings
finding diaphanous wings
of flowery verse,
poetry soars the skies
of expression.

and as mute hope
finds voice in poetry,
and love’s shades
as wisteria on vines
and wildflowers
on foothills clad in velvet,
in sinews of verse.

I find a new way
to embroider life’s pages…