My Voice

My poetry
is a weak approximation
of life

Like Rumi
I don’t know
always
from where this voice
erupts

Angry
Sad
Fearful
Happy
It just
comes

This voice is unskilled
in love
Like a baker
asked to build a house
Or a fox
asked to sing
Unskilled

Gazing at my love
This fox can sing
This baker
makes houses and bread

Gazing at my love
Her smile
Her olive eyes
A visage that
launched 1000 ships
I find my voice

It is a voice that simply says
I
Love
You
Now
and always

———————————————–

3 September, 2012

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About teserak1

I am Noman
Gallery | This entry was posted in Now, Poetry and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

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