Poetry

a kind of manifesto, part one...

Poetry!


It's part of me;

my words are not the same, you'll see.

The rainbow lying down the hill;

the rain in colours, and until,


I will become just wind and dust,

will always be a "must".


The words;


are shinny swords;

vibrating diamond chords,

and we are knights in silky armours,

we paint with words called rumours.


a chorus sing a ditty song:

the place where I belong!


The light ;


speaks bright;

has all the mighty plentiful right ,

to bound between the dark and green,

an inner vivid world and I am in.


No matter what they tell ,

this is my heaven and my hell!