|IAMBIC PENTAMETER|
|POETRY|
Day mature sunne a ripen fruit is sight
The lashes waken slumber dreamy life
And beings are much running thought
Murdering fast as veggie cutting with knife
Sailing tis heart in sorrow numbness tastes
I being isness stillness rock green blade
Tasting the song of essence nature mates
Tis singing vocal raw bee nectar glad
In Ocean bliss the ache of ail heart dance
By having nature silence fragrance tune
No being compete nature vocal ease
That lark that nightingale sooth and made heart trance
I nature me, is in isness to merge
I merg'd nature, I lost quiet no urge
|Poetictocs|
