Richly Given

In Memory: Poetry Masters of old

There is a quiet wind that blows
Across the vestiges of one's soul
Marching to rhythm so effortlessly it flows
Whispering softly of reality to the zesty and the bold

For desires of engraving, like the poetry masters of old
Who write of stark beauty, in words I'll never know
Throwing caution out the window, I surge into the cold
Taking pen in hand composing, from the caverns of my soul

Caring not if rejected as a writer who knows not rhyme
For I'm a want a be poet, a dreamer of the real
Finding favor in the stanzas emerging from my mind
Posting to a web site, which accepts these words of zeal

Sharing with a gladden heart this gift towards the living
Taking care not to worry, about the currents that surge my way
Thankful for the inner peace which has been richly given
With dreams of being a relic from yonder yesteryear, what thoughts I could convey?

Written by: Roland R. Ruiz
November 3, 2009