Poetry is
love and meaning,
twisted and terrible,
forged of steel words
by ink stained fingers
with hearts like nova’s.
It is feather haired
infant cries,
gentle curved
sensual sighs
Carved
by lost souls then found lovers
as their breath fails…
Poems are a spotlight
that drift down
like dust, their words
illuminated as they fall
to earth.
Poetry is a tree
and poets are leaves
that turn and fall
and break.
Author Bio:
Just who is this author named Peter Fifield? I've been working on that question for a very long time and I still don’t have a good answer, but let’s see if this helps: I am the former Army Officer who once was reprimanded for “thinking too much.” I am the father who will probably share college classes with his daughter and son. I am the musician that fell in love with the rhythm of prose. I am the American looking for a better dream than what’s currently for sale. I am the man of faith disappointed by the loud yet shallow state of American Christianity. I am a writer a poet and a humorist.
love and meaning,
twisted and terrible,
forged of steel words
by ink stained fingers
with hearts like nova’s.
It is feather haired
infant cries,
gentle curved
sensual sighs
Carved
by lost souls then found lovers
as their breath fails…
Poems are a spotlight
that drift down
like dust, their words
illuminated as they fall
to earth.
Poetry is a tree
and poets are leaves
that turn and fall
and break.
Author Bio:
Just who is this author named Peter Fifield? I've been working on that question for a very long time and I still don’t have a good answer, but let’s see if this helps: I am the former Army Officer who once was reprimanded for “thinking too much.” I am the father who will probably share college classes with his daughter and son. I am the musician that fell in love with the rhythm of prose. I am the American looking for a better dream than what’s currently for sale. I am the man of faith disappointed by the loud yet shallow state of American Christianity. I am a writer a poet and a humorist.
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