Fields Of Wheat Matching, Grapes Large On Each Vine


Pen is my brush, ink is my oozing paint
often my heart will rush, my muse will faint;
With deeper strokes, colors are splashed about
in aching souls, restless spirits will shout,
Earth and sky meld, virgin soil pleads for wet
poet's pen captures all that it can get.
Rainbow colors, Nature's radiant hues,
diamond buckles on gold laden shoes;
Cool winds flowing, heavens gleam bright sunshine
fields of wheat matching, grapes large on each vine,
Spring rains, green carpet emerging with rhyme
inked stairs, Art hoping to live for all time.
Heart gives, poet's pen flows on and records
beauty in words, for mankind's teeming hordes

Robert J. Lindley, 6-29-2017


Syllables Per Line: 10 10 10 10 10 10 10 10 10 10 10 10 10 10
Total # Syllables: 140
Total # Words: