Call To Heaven

Poetry’s sacred…

  prose not so much

 

One to be read

  the other to touch

 

The verse spoken freely

  in a nighttime array

 

Phrases eternal

  to outlive the day

 

The medicinal magic

  that hides in each line

 

Lifts my body to flight

  in a nocturnal climb

 

The prose gets pounded

  and pounded again

 

And its linear sense

  I find hard to befriend

 

As twilight appears

  from the corner of my eye

 

Each couplet on fire,

  and I look to the sky

 

With my very last breath

  not taken in vain

 

It’s with meter and rhyme

  —I call to heaven again

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2015)

       ‘From The Book Of Prayers’

 

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