Between the rhymes.

[keith]

Between the times between the rhymes, the beat of life goes on,

though sometimes stumbling through the dark, before the night is gone,

although at times it can be dazzled by the rising of the dawn

it erases every shadowed dream before life’s poem is born,

after the sun has darned the clouds with shining golden charm

it goes on soft and silky wanderings over the meadow’s calm,

where tired poems are butterflies that need warmed by the sun

so that their sweet ballets of wonderment rise as the world is spun.





Between the moments life grows tired before they turn to hours

there is a whispering softness through the mornings gentle showers,

although the world has many troubles with its flooding and its pain

the thought that makes us get back up to rise and rise again

is that deep down cradled in our soul we have to carry on

until earth’s ailments are all cured and its idiots are gone,

then the butterflies will rise once more like rainbows wrapped in love

and we can rest within our gardens, when life’s push comes to shove.





My poetry will rewrite the world in rhythmical repose

for the medicine it needs, a poem knows just the perfect dose

and everyone that feels the world’s weight will feel it lift again

No more the fear of warfare, and no more the aches of pain,

Just birdsong in the treetops and as painful memories die

There will be smiles and hello’s, but never more goodbye,

For all in all love is my God, and evil I disdain

For I live life in my own calm way, without need to explain…

[Brianna]

beautifully expressed

[purplespirit]

In awe! Keith there is no Poet I could compare with you, your poetry has always and will forever touch my heart with enchantment, thank you. Blessings always, Ursula xx