Damn them that curse love
Was it love that turned infatuation
to flattery?
That blinded sight
to perfection
beyond the surface of all
that remains
true
Love cast the net
it does not set
the trap
A harvester
to gather the seed
of those truly worthy
ready for its
divine
preparation
It liberates
from the mire
that differentiates
no man
Free to pursue
that which our eyes envy
and lust
but once escaped
the game is ours to win
or lose
About the Creator
Daniel Cole
Author and artist, I'm finding my spirit again late in life. Old passions for poetry borne of love, loss, hope and pain, things with which everyone is familiar.
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Stuck in Place
Amy whistled as she walked through her front yard, looking for any sticks she could pick up and throw into the pile she and her brother were making. They had a big windstorm recently; as such, all the trees in their yard had suffered some damage in some loss of sticks. Or perhaps losing those sticks was a good thing since their trees probably needed to be pruned anyway. Amy wasn't sure.
By Rebecca Patton6 days ago in Fiction
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