Real Dreams

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“Faith is the poetry

of our dreams;

action is the builder

of our reality.”

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~  Steve Maraboli

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Elfje:            (Cinquain)

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truth

fully evident

cannot be denied

forever etched in stone

reality

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Haiku:

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icy chill, snowflakes

earth being held by winter’s grip

nature hibernates

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Poem:

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sunlight on the wings of a butterfly
summer sounds of bees and birds
nature’s magnificence one cannot deny
all mighty creation to glorify
comparisons at a loss for words

human vision pales inadequate
images that the artist attempt to capture
each and every day a cause to celebrate
God laughs as we try to prognosticate
time to stop thinking, enjoy the rapture

universe reduced to mathematical perfection
wavelengths that color the rainbow
mirror, mirror, whose reflection
emotions the only imperfection
an occasional mind like Leonardo or Thoreau

whose world is this anyway
can there ever be an honest legislature
is there a replacement for religion
does one need faith to file a petition
will man ever harmonize with nature

will man eventually destroy his domain
what is the true meaning of armageddon
were all humans born with the mark of Cain
can we be content with the mundane
shall we let peace cry out to heaven

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ME and the Boss

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https://michaelerb.wordpress.com

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https://meandtheboss.wordpress.com

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A Mirror

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“Poetry is

a mirror

which makes

beautiful

that which is

distorted”

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― Percy Bysshe Shelley

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Elfje:    (also know as a Cinquain)

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wavy

fun house

jump, squat, laugh

mirror on the wall

distorted

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Haiku:

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snow capped mountain peak

sparkling crystals blinding light

wafting spring zephyrs

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Poem:

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poetry is a form of meditation

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the mind searches for a word
the word becomes the idea
at first the meaning is blurred
seeking a mental panacea

the poet holds up his mirror
he searches for the light needed to reflect
striving to make the pictures clearer
the image and the words he seeks to connect

in  his minds eye the story grows
people and places take their roles
is it going to be rhyming or will it be prose
like pilots the words work the controls

will his story continue on into infinity
always hoping for the happy ending
can he find the conclusion skillfully
only his ego knows that he was just pretending

listening to natures nocturnal music
wading through a surf warm gentle
his lyric poetry becomes therapeutic
the imagination is moved to the transcendental

is the emotional ride for the reader or the writer
when the story ends like the triumphant bullfighter

ME and the Boss

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https://meandtheboss.wordpress.com

https://michaelerb.wordpress.com

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