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This World

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This world is a heart
fed from the nuzzle of a mother’s breast.
Its murmur is a father’s gentle song,
one whose arms reach out before a fallen
tear can bury itself in the sand.

Its arteries are our highways, as
opaque as they are to the earth beneath,
without them, are we not pigeons without wings,
moths without a moon?

The blood is love. But blood isn’t love.
No, if we take in one as our own,
it does the same. The world took us in
so long ago.

 

Join us at dVerse Poets Pub as we imagine our own world.

The sky’s the limit..or is it? It’s my pleasure to be hosting this week’s Poetics.

Doors open at 3 p.m.

Image: pixabay.com

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Hearts of gold

Are fewer still it seems

This world, so wired for techno garb

Dulling minds with faceless friends

Leaving us searching for souls

On tangled webs that weave

Between truth and trickery                                           

Hearts of gold

Are all around us

Rebooting dreams of reality

Reaching out blindly

For other fingers too busy texting tales

That never would leave lips