Blood, Sweat, and Tears

BLOOD, SWEAT, AND TEARS
by PoeticMeditations

Often I forget about all the blood, sweat, and tears
That goes into the creation of a single poem,
Charmed by the beautiful images reflected in the mirrors,
While sitting beneath an elm in the evening all alone,
Or the nightingale’s plaintive cry in the dawning hours;
November’s cold, distant shimmering moonlight;
A single rose’s perfection, majestic in its regal powers;
The vast, awesome grandeur of a star-filled winter night;
The kiss of autumn’s coolness on a crisp September morn;
First love’s exhilarating bloom, so fresh and young;
A sunrise’s glorious resurrection as the day is born;
The smoky, plumy taste of words rolling on the tongue.
But it’s all the blood, sweat, and tears needed to be shed –
In order to truly savor the beauty of this world –
That from the tender soul, the lacerating wounds have bled,
Remembering it’s the grit of life that forms, with time, the pearl.

(©2015. All rights reserved)

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About poeticmeditations

A 19th-century romantic poet trying to get by in the 21st-century.
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