My Poetry
It began from a simple word,
Of what the moon had seemingly spoken,
Or a bird’s song I once heard,
Or whispers of the wind of same token;
Then there were colors of the rainbow,
Sketched briefly below the sky blue,
And the clouds’ reflection to the sea,
Spread all their words in my poetry;
The sound of the roaring river,
The melting snow after winter,
The wind breeze in summer,
You hear them in my poetry,
But without the presence of spring,
Flowers blooming every morning,
If no trees, no mountains seen,
In my poetry, you’ll read nothing.
poem by Efren Petalver Carranza
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
