Poetry is You

Poetry is reflection of nature

Sign that you ain’t mature.

Oh boy, it’s a marvelous joy

the joy of spring breeze

hitting on the face

you winning the race.

It’s tranquil of the deep ocean

and chaotic drifting of tides.

Wet-licked lips of imminent joy,

the barbaric yawp with

tears falling from the eyes.

Poetry is love

The love for you

It portrays your imperfect curves

luscious lips — thin strips of heaven.

You are the appealing beauty O,

Thou is poetry, poetry is you.

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