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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