April 3 is absolutely free, and it’s almost slipped away towards tomorrow. How quickly the time can slip away. How quickly we live another day. How quickly it’s time for another poem, and here I go again with my third installment in my poem a day challenge for this, National Poetry Month.
I wish to thank all of you who took a chance and dropped in. I’m honored by your presence, and hope your day went well.
We lost our power this afternoon, and I didn’t have time to write a poem when the power came back on, so it looks like I’m cheating, but I’ll try to make up for it by writing two poems for one of the upcoming days. I guess time will tell, right? grin
Now then, here we go with another poem. I wrote this a while ago, and as I was flipping down through the folder of my poetry, it grabbed my curiosity, so, here it is for your enjoyment, your comment and your critique.
Thanks, and have a great rest of your day. Hopefully, I’ll catch ya tomorrow.
A poem by DP Lyons
Whispers of words echo around cluttered corridors
Catch phrases and metaphors find their purpose under a spinning sun
Meanings defined, they settle quietly along a dusty bookshelf
Carefully collect them all, and safely log them away
Hollow rants and empty rage make their lasting book marks, quick and deep
Relentless torment cuts to the quick with selfish tone
Devious plots slowly attack and rip away the pages of carefully gathered time
Hate and anger lie cleverly hidden, armed with blades of sharpened text
Armies of unforgiving envy ravage a misspelled, barren land
Whirling verbs and advancing adjectives take little blame and accept no prisoners
Plotting their pillage, they strike their targets with deadly, shameless punctuation
Misspelled innocence stands little chance and surrenders, beaten, battered and bruised
Alone, in a secluded chapter, love waits its turn
After patiently plotting a paraphrased path, it slowly makes its move
Carefully selected praise with words of beauty wrap around and tug at wounded hearts
They find their way, their paragraph, their purpose, their home
The darkened lands of dread and pity give way to an ever changing font
True meaning and everlasting purpose slowly rise beyond the eastern margin
A new, peaceful light reaches out as it shapes the sentence structure of another day
Metaphors of love form and take shape, with pure passion and welcomed affection
The page has turned.