Poetry

So be, my words like silent fog,
Feel not the harsh of Sunday's call
But give inspired, a new dialogue.

Fly with birds, to see the sights,
With open eyes before the pall.
Breathe in time with pure delights.

Be mute awhile and smell a rose
Bathe in sounds as bubbles fall.
Be still, dispeling sorrow's woes.

Just smile away the grey of day.
Forget bad memories upon the wall
Then love someone in your own way.

Write true poems through your own eyes
Painting a picture of feelings and all.
Reveal your mysteries, the chord of sighs.

Richard Lynn Livesay 2009