Not A Rhyme In Sight

Not A Rhyme In Sight short poem

Photo by _Pek_

I am a special gift when the lumens of my soul shine
I am a friend indeed
when my name is called with love

I am a mother lion
ready to pounce at the merest sense
for mine…and for yours

I am a hidden treasure to be stumbled upon
as we technologically… collectively
and more times than not
briefly land in each other’s laps

I am a middle-aged woman
arriving perhaps a little worse for wear
somewhere between fertility and mortality
noticing the changes

Rate the poem
1 Star2 Stars3 Stars4 Stars5 Stars (1 votes, average: 3.00 out of 5)
We are posting your rating...

Have something to say about the poem?

Charlotte Dickson

Signup / Login to follow the poet.
...big ones, help the little onesyou move in the direction of your thoughts...you are where you are today because your thoughts brought you there
Poems you will love

Give your feedback / review for the poem

Be the First to Comment & Review poem!

Notify of
avatar
wpDiscuz

Not That Type Of Poem

Not That Type Of Poem long poem

Sorry death But I’m going to cheat on you With life that is She’s too beautiful With her crisp fresh air days And her sun filled rays In this poem This girl lives for another day I finally wake up

I Fear Not

I Fear Not short poem

As I leave this world, I worry not. I’ll simply move on to the next. I’ve been to many places will be to many more. What we see is not all there is. Realms upon realms there truly be. Existence

I Am Not

I Am Not short poem

Time capsule in gangrene foot. It was madness of the legs. There were no sins in the ghetto. Only illicit distillation and girls changing the beds. It stinks when he says he was god. What was the ism of the

I Am Not

I Am Not short poem

Time capsule in gangrene foot. It was madness of the legs. There were no sins in the ghetto. Only illicit distillation and girls changing the beds. It stinks when he says he was god. What was the ism of the

Need Not Suffer

Need Not Suffer short poem

The tears were walking along with laughter. My face was roasted. The fish-men were moving the political wheels. As the chaos was widening, the humming birds started to depart. And the seeds were catching fire from anonymous snipers. The candle