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Holy Kiss of Peace
©2016, Olan L. Smith
I do no harm
To give my heart
To poetry, there
It beats two times as joyous.
I write words with hope,
In a way it seems
Impossible to take sides
Between the golden locks
Of poetry's hair or
The simple gait of prose
As it gallops into the sunset.
Not one of Keats' odes has
Touched me more than
Ode to a Nightingale where
Words become paints on his
Palette morphing into the Holy Kiss of peace.
A/N: I thought this poem deserved a place of its own without the mess of homophones clouding it meaning, enjoy.
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