Fourlinegraphia

A soul so bright, my heart so free, I sing like birds in a leafy tree. No planned note, no practiced sound, Just music rising all around. Divinely led by whispers near, A gentle push I feel, not fear. Through sunny days and skies of gray, A guiding hand shows me the way. The thoughts I feel, a hidden stream, Awakening a waking dream. Those swirling colors, vivid and true, Turn into words, alive and new. No forced rhyme, no measured beat, Just honest feelings, raw and sweet. My verses bloom like flowers fair, Unfolding beauty everywhere. Each word a petal, soft and bright, Catching warmth, reflecting light. A simple truth, a tender plea, I share this joy you see in me. This inner light, a radiant gleam, More precious far than kings could dream. It whispers hope, it chases fear, And dries each quiet, falling tear. So let my light shine bold and strong, Let every verse help right a wrong. May others see beyond the line The grace that shapes this heart of mine. Behind the rhythm, soft and ...

  The poet stands behind the line, A quiet pulse, a waiting sign. No just the ink, or sound of speech, But breath that sets the words in reach. The poem walks where feelings roam, Far from the hands that made it home. Once set adrift, beyond the sight, A timeless truth, forever bright. Between the two, a name is kept, A borrowed shine, so softly swept. Not meant to hide, or cause a lie, But open space for spirit nigh. For names may blur, and poets fade, But poems hold the start they made. And pen names, like the twilight's gleam, Let honest thoughts become a dream. So let the poet softly be, Let verses show what eyes can't see. The poem stays, the name may change, But meaning lives, a wider range.

  Dust motes danced in sunlit air, A silent house, a vacant chair. The clock ticked slow, a mournful sound, As shadows stretched upon the ground. We children played, but listless now, A game without a happy vow. Our laughter thin, a fragile thing, Because our hearts forgot to sing. For Daddy lived beyond the sky, Where stars keep watch and angels fly. He once went out to brave the day- Then never found his earthly way. We missed his stories, deep and bright, His arms that held away the night. We missed his smile, so calm, so kind, The gentle strength he left behind. That night I dreamed the lane grew wide, And footsteps brushed the quiet side. A car slowed down, a door swung free, And hope ran fast inside of me. He stood there tall, a little worn, But in his eyes-a brand new morn. His bags fell down, forgotten things, As to his arms, like birds, we sprang. The hug was tight, a gentle squeeze, He smelled of earth and summer trees. His beard was rough, yet soft and warm, A shelter sa...

  A song begins within, no matter what it takes. In the quiet dawn, my spirit gently wakes, Soft whispers of my soul, calling me to see, That love’s true voice resides in me. My skin, a canvas painted wide, With stories carried deep inside. Dark or light, the hues are mine, Reflections of a sacred design. My eyes, a mirror of the sky, Burning bright or calm and shy, Each gaze a window to my core, Revealing truths I can’t ignore. No matter where my footsteps roam or rest, Love’s quiet presence is always my guest. A gentle tide that ebbs and flows, In every tear, in every glow. Yet all are just stories told, Of souls that seek to feel, to hold. Love’s language is soft and true, In every glance, in all I do. A tender touch, a whispered cheer, Reminding me I am held dear. But life’s a journey, wide and vast, A dance of present, future, past. Sometimes the heart must stray, To find its truth along the way. To breathe, to grow, to stand anew, And chase the dreams that call to you. For lo...

  I feel my heart beat on, and guide me through the day. It knows no bounds of birth, or name, or shade of skin. I walk my path unjudged by eyes that turn away. It says I stand enough, just as I have been seen. Love finds me first in quiet acts I almost miss: A hand that stays, a voice that lets my breathing slow. I learn my worth in moments small, but held like this- No grand display, just time that says I get to grow. I dream, at times, of roots set deep beneath our feet; A home made warm by laughter left along the hall. I want a life where shared returns make days complete, Where holding fast means choosing both the rise and fall. Then comes the turn, when something in me asks for air: A wider sky, a step beyond familiar ground. I loosen knots of love with honesty and care, Not fleeing what we were, but what I must be found. So I let change arrive, and trust the pace it keeps. I bless the forms that love has taken in my life. I listen close to what my steady heart still speaks; ...

  The shore, a line of sand so white, Where ocean meets the day and night. The waves come crashing, loud and free, A song the wind sings endlessly. Small shells lie scattered, pearly bright, Lost treasures in the morning light. And seaweed dark as tangled hair Sleeps where the tide has left it there. The sun climbs high, a watchful eye, Tracking gulls that wheel and cry. Their shadows flicker on the foam As if they call us, Come home, come home. The fishermen with weathered skin Haul heavy nets-the day begins. Their boats in stripes of blue and red, A modest life, but bravely led. Above the surf, on rock and stone, The lighthouse stands, austere, alone. A standing witness, scarred by years, To whispered prayers and salt-worn fears. Its patient beam cuts dark from light, Counting every stormbound night. It knows the names the sea has claimed, And ships returned, and ships unclaimed. At cottage doors and shuttered panes, The waiting spouses read the rains. They scan the horizon, dusk...