Editing
Editing
Shelly Ambrose
I’m just a romantic, shaping the vague,
In colors that drift through a thought-made plague.
With words that bend light, persuade, and ignite,
Urging souls to walk fearlessly through the night.
A daydreamer sketching the unformed sky,
With syllables stitched into wings that try
To lift off the page, unburdened by form,
A storm of verse that won't conform.
Abstract lines paint what eyes can’t see,
A canvas of sound, a mind set free.
Each stanza a brushstroke, wild and wide,
Where language and meaning softly collide.
I sip from the hue of imagery’s flame,
Each metaphor flickers, never the same.
Couplets march, two by two,
Wading through chaos to find what's true.
I revise the shadows I used to be,
And in that undoing, set art free.
Carving life with an open pen,
Bleeding ink, then healing again.
Shelly Ambrose
2019
Shelly Ambrose
I’m just a romantic, shaping the vague,
In colors that drift through a thought-made plague.
With words that bend light, persuade, and ignite,
Urging souls to walk fearlessly through the night.
A daydreamer sketching the unformed sky,
With syllables stitched into wings that try
To lift off the page, unburdened by form,
A storm of verse that won't conform.
Abstract lines paint what eyes can’t see,
A canvas of sound, a mind set free.
Each stanza a brushstroke, wild and wide,
Where language and meaning softly collide.
I sip from the hue of imagery’s flame,
Each metaphor flickers, never the same.
Couplets march, two by two,
Wading through chaos to find what's true.
I revise the shadows I used to be,
And in that undoing, set art free.
Carving life with an open pen,
Bleeding ink, then healing again.
Shelly Ambrose
2019
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