the color of love
is you and I
a perfect symphony
of sound
falling endlessly
like rain sprinkling
a piece of forever
silently etched
into the capsule
of time
Olufunke Kolapo
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Send an email
the color of love
is you and I
a perfect symphony
of sound
falling endlessly
like rain sprinkling
a piece of forever
silently etched
into the capsule
of time
Olufunke Kolapo
Follow on Twitter
Send an email
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this is really a lovely poem and what a gorgeous photo! Bravo!
Thanks so much for reading and the warm comment.
Very welcome indeed!
An incredibly beautiful love poem!
Thanks a lot!
Hope you are doing good?
Yes! God bless you during this special season! I hope you are doing well too. Question – Your first name is Olufunke is that the name you go by? I often write comments using the person’s name, and I want to make sure I do it right.
Amen!
Yes, it’s Olufunke.
Cheers.
A beautiful photo and a amazing poem for love. Love should be like music.
Such a lovely poem Olufunke, thank you for sharing.
Xx Paris
Thanks so much for visiting, reading and leaving a comment.
Great poem!…..shared on my fb page. Looks like u’ve finally given a much more cogent meaning to d word ‘love’……’you and I, a perfect symphony….’
Lol.
Glad you like it. Thanks so much for your encouraging comment, for visiting and for sharing.
Now or Never
A turtle flies through the universe.
We ride on the back of the turtle.
The Undergods dwell in Canandaigua,
The Overgods look down from clouds.
Even if we’re 300 moons away from
When this mattered, most of our lives
Are touched by one holy inspiration: nature.
Cosmic coincidence should not amaze here.
You are in the middle of the new awareness.
Black rocks spin and dive in deep water.
A four-year-old runs then swims.
Relaxed willow provides humid shelter.
You peek under the giant grass skirt
And see four tangled feet. You don’t peek further.
Gray locusts send twirling twigs to hair.
You swim out to a cooler spot of deep water.
The white snake, awake again,
Leaves Bare Hill, not reeking havoc
But cutting new creeks to hike along,
Full of crawdads and water spiders.
You retrace ancient steps. You sneak
Through the old neighborhood, now trespassing.
Four tangled feet, a few skipping stones
And the spirit within you:
Now awareness reigns. Corn presents
A raw treat for passing minstrels. Nothing
Talked about or noticed matters.
Nice one! Thanks for visiting. (:
Glory of Love