Gardenia

Image source: Pixabay

Oh my loss! I found gardenia

In a narrow turn.

The cloud hovers, no more sunshine

And now I wait till summer burn.

The wind came in a hipful gown

I never knew it would go down so

But then I’m glad we are shaded brown

For then we are alike, so much in soul.

The silence was drawn, but not my will

I tried my best to speak out still

I thought you heard by other chords

But I was wrong, no myth so forth.

I call you gardenia, I call you rose

I call you by any name a sweet flower smells

As now you live like a poet’s verse

On open lines yet few can tell.

                                       M. V. Echa 

Author’s Note: To confound a poet, ask him to choose between love and poetry. He would rather die than make that choice. He would rather die than betray the bliss of his existence.

hostgator

Poetry is what is given back after an intake of experience; and to make poetry without soul is to make music on a broken chord. Poetry is more than rhymes and rhythms, it is soul music.

Poetry is a long search for something golden; it is a spiritual experience and a temple duty. One word here another there like flowers they garnish our world. 



M. V. Echa

M. V. Echa

My message is the universe, my truth is the universe, and this blog contains all you need to know about the universe, from the true nature of reality to the long-sought unity of the cosmos — which is the big picture!