Who says poetry is just made with words?

There is poetry made in the melody of tunes.
There is poetry that flows in colour and hues.

There is poetry in the joy of two beating hearts as one.

There is poetry in shaping clay on a potters wheel.

There is poetry is the ebb and flow of the waves.
There is poetry in the gushing streams of wilderness.

There is poetry in the chirping of birds.

There is poetry in the joy of a heartfelt smile.

There is poetry in dewdrops dancing on leaves.

There is poetry is stroke of brush on paper.

There is poetry in the heart of two dancing souls
There is poetry in the ecstatic tango of the feet.

There is poetry in the hearts of lovers uniting.
There is poetry of divinity in faith and prayer.

There is poetry in sacred geometry.
There is poetry in the elements of nature.

If we choose…

There is poetry in the magic of life and living.
And then comes the poetry of the pen to paper waxing eloquent.
For yet we love to read words to sense the unique poetry that we actually are.

Poetry is in who we are, as we are, the way we are…
As is the flow, the flow is us.
We are born of poetry of stars,
Of spaces in betwixt and between.
We are verses in the vividity.
Just as much in the subtlety.
And in the sublimity.

Savvy