A Poem of Poems

A Poem of Poems

I kneel in prayer and confide in My God
And on My Sunday Remembered reflect,
Through the blackest of valleys I’ve gravely walked,
Yet the flowers left there I’ve the utmost respect.

I speak as I feel My Angel so near
Who guides me to bless My Ghost tonight,
A Solemn Man I am as a salty tear
Drips through my hands clenched so tight.

As a Crumb of Bread I fly through the Stars
On the Winds of Yore so fine,
Reflect I, on everything that is ours,
While I try to Share a True Love Divine.

I do Believe though I’ve a Mountain to Climb,
A Gift Wrapped Present’s at the end of the roads
Filled with A Few Simple Words and Truth Divine,
Even for the lives of the Oddest of Odes.

Also, it’ll be no Yesterdays Ghost,
And I pray for the Grumpy Old Men,
And the Dreamers that in their own wisdom boast
But are blind to their very own Good Friend.

And no one will say, “I’m Beautiful Now,”
They’ll say, “You always were,”
And I’ll Cry into the Arms and ask My God how?
On a Moonlit Walk in a warm December.

With a Heart on Fire I duly weep,
And give thanks for Angelic Peace,
For my spirit to yours will truly creep
As you start to grasp my Masterpiece.

-Jacob Winterfeldt