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The Beat

The rhythm tells a story,
Of ancient gods who win with glory.
A princess lost out at sea,
Is found at last by her meant to be.
The sleeper deep at rest,
Awakened by the utmost stress.
A child awaiting peace,
Starves again without a single plea;
For something that is more than food,
It is a way to bring up the mood.

The drums beat;
A sailor’s fleet.
The harp strums;
An angel hums.
The notes are sung;
There is a hum,
And with that comes a different story,
A different meaning to you and me.



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sbets said...
Jul. 24, 2012 at 9:36 pm

I liked this. The words flow nicely and sound great. Good job!

Please check out and rate my poems!

 
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