Dear Poets, Writers

Dedicated to you all

You are the indigo riding my mind
The purple wisdom in my bosom
The logic that becomes my instinct
The instinct that pulls my gut
Your priceless ink shapes emerald words
Like blooms woven in the white of paper
You are
The calming in the wild beating of my heart
Adrenaline pulsing my blood stream
The dreams behind my eyelids
The taste of music on my lips as I sing
The songs that still the rising chaos of a thousand pleas
My wired mind magnetized by the sage brilliance 
That nourishes the trust

You perfect the poetry 
You become the poetry
The PoetPerfect.

96 thoughts on “PoetPerfect

    1. Yes, you are right, Michele. Sometimes I think like that too but then I just can’t help writing. It’s ingrained, it will die when I die but till then β€˜ makes our time worth living β€˜ quoting you ❀️

      Liked by 1 person

      1. I sold my house and moved to a smaller town in March. Finding a new smaller house, sorting out my “stuff” is enough, but I also became very ill and spent nearly 5 weeks in the hospital. I was not much good for anything until recently. Still seeing a bunch of doctors who should be able to tell me what to expect. Can you tell I missed you??

        Liked by 1 person

  1. Looks of great stuff here. “Purple wisdom” is very good. Love this line: “Like blooms woven in the white of paper” and this one: “The dreams behind my eyelids”. A nice collection of words!

    Liked by 1 person

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