- Books, Literature, and Writing
Embedded in My Heart
I want to write a poem,
Filled with poise and grace
That begs the mind to wonder
of the feelings I've embraced.
What cause have I to write this
What spurned this poem inside
As I pen the words here written
a deeper meaning starts to rise.
Is it poetry that's left me or some hurt to set demise.
Infused by crushing indignations and evil torrid lies
What veil has clouded over what impedes my writing’s start
It’s not the poetry that’s left me, For its embedded in my heart.
The people I encounter may come then soon depart.
The memories imprinted May taste of bitter herbs and tart
The sting of forlorn feelings, the betrayal that leaves a mark
intended to dismay me and give up before I start
The friends that have forsaken, the hurt they can impart
will be a passing moment a memory one day forgot.
But if I have this gift of verbiage, A gift of eloquence and art,
then it will forever remain with me, for its embedded in my heart.
But my conscience has its freedom From disparity and wear
For my friends abide around me Their compassion do they share
With virtue truth and passion their friendship rings of care
And strengthens deep within me So Life’s bidding can I bare
As I face the curt obscurities and on life’s pages leave my mark
I’ll pull from deep inside me with fresh pen my thoughts embark
and express my inner feelings to share with my friends impart
For the tranquility of poetry is embedded in my heart.