windows Of Innocence

windows Of Innocence short poem

Uploaded by Debbie Stone


“Innocence looks through a window of crystal clear glass,
there is no reflection, just perfect vision of clarity…..
For it is through the eyes of a child that truth is captured,
no shadows of grey…just pure simplicity.
A child’s soul floats on the Wings of an Angel.
Never underestimate what a child can teach you”

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?

Debbie (Jakins) Stone

Signup / Login to follow the poet.
"Whispers from my Soul" .... allows me to express exactly that. Everything that I write is actually a part of my life. So difficult to express verbally , but makes complete sense when I put pen to paper.
Poems you will love

Give your feedback / review for the poem

Be the First to Comment & Review poem!

Notify of
avatar
wpDiscuz

Windows Painted Closed

Windows Painted Closed short poem

Her words spit out as I feign interest with a nod. Then silence, A forceful pause, Her stern gaze pries. Though I’ve learned to hate her way, My words come out wrong. “I will not go!” “I will not be

Small Windows

Small Windows short poem

This road trip to moon will not end through the shards of shattered, small prints of sleep. A ravaged nest lived behind tomorrow in necklace of past apologies. Hanging by fan was ending of today. We talked of dirty nights

Windows

Windows short poem

Sky wept when you hanged the young truth from a tree. A shadow falls on the hill for a savior. A winged flaw becomes a legend for the sake of a sword. A nameless letter betrays the will of a

Windows

Windows prose poem

(1) Tents are crowded by windows, but missing walls and a jasmine flower. (2) A window is a border between consciousness and sub-consciousness, between Ego and its annihilation. (3) A home without a window is a blind man with no

Naïve Innocence

Naïve Innocence short poem

O pink horse, O timeless sun, run on my body, run. Black magic had pierced the needles into my heart. Lying on nails to wrest a superearth from amnesty, I start bandaging the bruised ethos of my native conscience –