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Walter LaVerne Jones

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Mark
by Walter LaVerne Jones → (All Poetry by Walter LaVerne Jones)
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What is the mark of man upon a fresh fallen snow
Only the wisdom of a God will ever know

Let the shades of love in perfection see a failing wheel
Peal back burgundy skin of knowledge in an apple tree
Cry to me lightning voice a challenge tasted to feel
Trust leads me to repress desire in passion spoken
As the religion takes me to a clay left in eternal dust
Dry me in a cast of mold kiln to become a pure crystal
Tangle the web of life as the spider comes for the meal it is I
Eat verses cruel deceit placed careful in hopes of recognition brave
Grape of bitter heart leads to special hope of wine so sweet
Harp of mother spaces roads long rolling finding rocks of stone unturned
Tongue makes its presence felt upon the widow hurt but wisdom still sharp
Mortal realm keeps the path clear in visions dripping from honey missed
Bees of every growth lend to the mind a spot or a place love's portal
Oaks lean and mend branches sleeping in age of truth knurled by wind and rain
Scattered fingers dance the keys of an organ seeking music in pleasant holes
Stomach screams about inners used to come forth the bellows pure in ore
Shore gathers up the ruminants of wrecks in views of few, as time marks nothing
Prince of peace tracks the message in hails of children reaching we knelt
Felt a mix of blessing and promise as the stars come to rest in hearts left cold
Dark is the sound of lingering voices as we keep in shadows as a group weep
In quest of love a small voices mixes with trees in pristine black bark

From ash of day and clay of night a creation born and man for the earth to save
is once again forlorn

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 Reviews of "Mark"
Reviewed by Tinka Boukes
Reviewed on October 6, 2006
Another very well written piece!!

Love Tinka


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