Sing for me the song of nature,
Of trees with exotic blue birds,
Pools, shimmering in gleeful lustre,
'round the forest glades my lady treads,
The mighty sun forever bright,
Or the gleaming moon of dark night.
Sing for me the sour song of War,
Red rider of Apocalypse!
Raise in crescendo, wails and more,
Stinking corpse, blood drips from lips,
Starving children, explosion, chaos!
Worse than the wrath of Vesuvius.
Sing for me the sweet song of Love,
Heavenly virtue, pure and true!_
Pulsing hearts, aromatic clove,
Red roses, we now find but few.
Oh please! Harp me the melody,
of the magical symphony!
Sing for me the kind song of peace,
Of qualms and differences resolved;
Of rhythm, of calm, grace and ease,
Of all our treacherous sins absolved.
Would you sing and mend all my greif?
That wee white dove with olive leaf!
-------------
Vittorio_topaz🌹
YOU ARE READING
THE BLUE
Poetry...just words, with more meaning than length can tell, just like the heart. We call them poems, but I tag it, 'the blue'...
