Some call it nonsense, but really it's not.
It's a stack of words you thought you'd forgot,
but when heaped just right make a magical thought.
~~~
To the untrained eye, it's simply a rhyme.
Yet when said aloud, it keeps lovely time.
The deeper you look, the far more sublime.
~~~
Every letter, every word has a place.
Even syllables matter, and each in-between space,
what it says, how it sounds, rhythm, and pace.
~~~
You might pen it down or keep it for parts
send in a letter or write in brick art.
What matters is that your words touch a heart.
~~~
Poetry heals the mind and fills the soul.
Pour out your heart, fine virtue extol.
Words hoist the fallen up out of their hole.
~~~
It may stay in a notebook on a shelf,
sent to a lover, or kept for the self.
Published or unsung, poet bear thyself.
K.B. Silver
About the Creator
K.B. Silver
K.B. Silver has poems published in magazine Wishbone Words, and lit journals: Sheepshead Review, New Note Poetry, Twisted Vine, Avant Appa[achia, Plants and Poetry, recordings in Stanza Cannon, and pieces in Wingless Dreamer anthologies.
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More stories from K.B. Silver and writers in Poets and other communities.
CH 20~ Party Down
Argento’s ninth (eighteenth in earth years) Birthday came and went Thursday, the thirteenth, and he’d already received his father’s gift, if you could call it that. You had to commit a fairly serious infraction to be cut off; the Arch-Baron was keeping up appearances and maintaining his own reputation as much as any sense of love or attachment to Argento with his “gift.”
By K.B. Silver Exclusive • 5 days ago
Comments (1)
I love your poem! I want to hoist your poem up out of its hole and straight to top story! Wonderful!