Wind Beating, Whispered Voices, Tattooed Packaged Dishes

http://margoroby.com/2013/05/14/poetry-tryouts-metaphor-your-poems/

Wind Beating, Whispered Voices,Tattooed Packaged Dishes...

my words are like the wind blown sands on the beach

there one moment drawn with staff, then tugged by tides

to where no man’s eyes can view them, those that by my hand still hide...

my words are like the beating rain of the storm

demanding to be heard, read, understood engraved beneath images

that are carved in stone meant to be everlasting...

my words are the gentle whisper of lullaby to the newborn babe

the hearts harp strings plucked out of angelic clouds to ease those inexplicable

and undefinable visions into comforting dreams...

my words are the voices of the unknown, those who

lost their voices from terror, or are with joy too shocked to speak -

saying I will remember, learn and keep and keep and keep...

my words are symbols little tattoos on the skin of paper,

as well as cymbals orchestrated to wake up the living dead -

see me, hear me, touch me, read me...

my words are tied up in brown paper packages

tied up with bows, unwrap them and be pleasantly surprised,

challenged or even despised...just taste...one...

  

my words are the dishes at a feast

each one to be savored for their different and unique flavor -

sandwiched between yesterday and tomorrow...

©JP/davh