``` Poetry's Voice

It dances across the mind
like wind upon the earth.
At times a butterfly whisper,
stained glass wings across the sky.
At times a gale,
surging the waters of life
against uncertain shores.

It is alive.
Yet, spoken from death.
Silent cries of anguish
dance with Love's embrace.
At times a waltz,
flowing, swirling,
following it's given cadence.
At times a tango,
rhythm born of passion.
At times it's meaning hidden.
Yet, one will understand.

Within shrouds of silken emotion
does it find it's own language
first heard, foreign, but, not.
At times it's voice a drum,
varied are it's sounds.
At times it's voice a symphony
blending instruments into magic.

If we listen with the heart first
it will speak.
If we listen only with our mind
poetry's voice will be silent
forever remaining
a mystery.

by Mari Martin

Comments (14)

suicide is badass! I'm the trash man
Stanza four though, You bleed. I see crocodile tears Crocodile tears.....I've never seen them before....
I am a dove Poem written a quatrain Of four stanzas. Nicely written. Sylva
Does anyone know where this poem is published?
This is a recognition of individual difference which are so obvious in a relationship. This may be due to a lack of mutual respect or understanding, outlook or approach. Great poem. I am a dove. You / recognize the hawk. You / offer an olive branch. I / feel the thorns.
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