Skip to main content


I run through
Times I feel the memory
A pace
Hearten beaten

Flicks of time
relax me

Can dig that

Swinging to bird song beats
The call
yet disappear

to create
the beauty
that will come and go

grasping is a silent
dying art
Wanna paint


Wanna write

and take fold what you create
be strong
spill the
under done steak
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Mar 2017
About this poem:
Such beautiful art is silently around.

Poems entered on these pages are copyrighted by the authors who entered them. They cannot be reproduced without the author's written consent. © Copyright 2001-2020. All rights reserved.

Comments (1)

applause i can relate to this wonderfulapplause
Post Comment - Let others know what you think about this Poem
Report Abuse for this page, if inappropiate
We use cookies to ensure that you have the best experience possible on our website. Read Our Privacy Policy Here