Worn By The Heart

The poet’s leavings
each piece like a jewel,
must be seen
through the focus
of its heart’s vibrations.

Present poet’s leavings
each piece a rough jewel,
must be soul defined seen
through refracted focus
of jewel heart’s vibrations.

Arranged in
finely worked setting
which enfolds,
embracing
craft beauties’ purpose.

Too few appreciate
filigree light within
or hidden beauty
defining a fatal flaw.

Thoughts descend from ether
like golden rays of a rich red sun.
A glass jar cannot contain thoughts.

Poems are traced like
illusive flight of butterflies
on a bright summer’s day.
Impossible to hold
imprisoned within mind.

So many danced
on the edge of thought.
If not captured immediately
in the net of pages
poems are gone forever.

Poems cease to flutter
in a fleeting moment
so ephemeral passing
their way in freedom.

At moment poems
touched poet’s soul
poems were mine,
flattened crumpled spirit
rose again to shine.

Life does
not always free
poverty’s poor
time for capture.

Yet true poets
mourn not the fact
thoughts fade,
beyond reach forever.

Thoughts appreciated
for wondrous revelations
above surface symbol,
worn on hearts of gentle souls,
not as bodily adornments.
Displaying coveted wealth.

poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!