Poem - 01 June 2023, 10:08

every single step (celebration)

John Loopstra

Moment by mirror,
breath by air,
heart by beat,
every single step
that was taken,

moved me away from those old motions.

Hell had furies,
hell had fires,
but they died
in your waves of water.

How I came to be
so possessed,
we might never know,

but by your ways I was freed.

Time split when we tore down
the old house

to build a new body
of fired bricks
to live behind the mirrors.

Reflections shed,
flying bright, new colours –

we are newly wed (weed)

and yet

you could say
we’ve gone to seed

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Poetry Genre:

Freestyle

Topic:

Thankfulness

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7 comments

Comments

Shaun Cronick02 June 2023, 01:58

John I guess somethings in life may change but they will never fade.
For through the eyes of the beholder renewal may occur but the bedrock remains in place.
That foundation, so resilient that no amount of time can dare blemish or erode.
And John all else may refashion in one and other but the eyes never change and never age.
Superb writing and enjoyed reading very much and thank you for your poem of colour and brightening my day :)

John Loopstra03 June 2023, 07:32

Hi, Shaun, thanks for the appreciation. I am a lucky man indeed: instead of going down my life got into an upward spiral🍀 when I married my wife, she's got the brains of the outfit, I make the money to make it happen happily 💵😇 and get to write about it and share it with people all over the world (we live in a village with about 8.000 inhabitants...)

Being Me04 June 2023, 02:20

Love changes everything ... true love for the better x

John Loopstra07 June 2023, 13:46

Hi, Tina, sorry, missed your comment, but yes, it was a life saving change meeting my wife. Thanx fir the vite of confidence for Live and Life📝🎉

John Loopstra03 September 2023, 06:15

Hanx, just a description how the past 36 years of marriage turned out(luckily🎉🏡)

ℙ𝕆𝔼𝕋𝔼𝕊𝕊𝔻𝔸ℝ𝕂𝕃𝕐07 October 2023, 03:52

lovely verse. I enjoyed the read

John Loopstra07 October 2023, 22:40

Thank you, I had forgotten about this one (once a poem is born and out in the wotld, I tend to forget my kids, so it is good we dont have real ones in this world - a conscious decision to avoid messing them up as we were by our parents)