One word falls as another rises <br />to the surface of my mind, <br />together they create the start <br />of what life means to me. <br /> <br />Each day I hope for more, <br />Each day I return to source. <br /> <br />That mystical place, a <br />well of metaphors, a <br />place of meaning, that <br />beginning of word life, <br />found in the stillness, of <br />life’s yet unspoken library, <br />which on cue, like magic <br />words begin to flow. <br /> <br />Jumbled and cramped into <br />cupboards and drawers, <br />indexed through time to flow; <br />words of meaning, doing words <br />thinking verbs bring action, <br />to stir, to stimulate a poem. <br /> <br />Poems to inspire, to make right, <br />Poems that see all of life’s evil, <br />Poems of hope, reasons for living, <br />Poems of nature, poems of beauty. <br />Poems of love, poems of silence. <br /> <br />Creating a philosophical journey, <br />all mixed, stirred and shaken up, <br />fashioned to form reasons to <br />strive, to press on through all of <br />life’s up’s and downs, to life’s <br />reason of happiness and bliss. <br /> <br /> <br /> <br />07-07-2008<br /><br />Bob Blackwell<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-poets-life/
