In like Jazz or Classical music, one must learn to see the patterns. Fluid words rise to crest upon the crashing of waves. My Poetry is an Art form and not a writer's thoughts.
rain shadows
crosses
walking man
lost
in dreaming rhyme
nailed across the face
of time
shattered
and not
echoes call
to memories
as they fall
footprints across
dried concrete
if a man
ignoring defeat
dreaming
the morning song
drifting
within the short of long
as all wind bleeds
lost seasons
I'm having a hard time focusing on what you want to say in your poem that is without any punctuations. This is only like a bunch of words put together annoying.
Perhaps "..Quiet Storm" will help rekindle old flames buried and long forgotten or express the love so deeply locked inside of your soul longing to be released.
Regardless of where you may be found in love this beautiful masterpiece can be
The songs and art in this book are about our collective emergence after the pandemic and trauma of the last few years - comprised of 5 collections: World as Refuge, Where We Live, In Our Hands, Rhythms of Change and What We See & Sow.
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Love ya!
Jane
Ron
Sandie