Poetry And A Pure Heart

Poetry And A Pure Heart

Prematurely arriving for a pen,
Poetry and a pure heart
I am smaller than your average
But my muscle within beats big
Not fast but I am quick
I see past paint and veneer
Inspired, I color verses in metaphor
Give hues meaning hardly seen
And reveal what lies beneath.

I carve sonnets from silence,
Sculpting echoes into eloquence,
Letting syllables shimmer
Moonlight on restless tides
With ink as my lifeblood,
I breathe between broken lines,
Mending fractures with phrases
Fluttering like fireflies
Against the darkened doubt.

A whisper becomes a wildfire,
Turning paper into passion,
Turning rhythm into reason.
I am no mere maker of words
I am a weaver of wonder,
A seeker of stars and syllables,
Painting a cosmos of longing
Across the vast, velvet void.

Copyright © 2025 Charles Edward York
No part of this poem may be used or reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any way or form or by any means electronic, mechanical, recording, or otherwise without the written permission of the author.*