Poetry from John Culp


Oh, Really 

This Fresh Creation 
     of Works without form 

Says  without  Starting 
  and  Starts before  Born 

This  has  no  reflection 
        Yet  said  to reflect 

Then  carry  one's  Heart 
       towards  what  to  expect 

Freshly  creates 
  Where time holds  in stance 

Life  carries  Completion 
      The  form  is a Dance 

At  the end  of each  Dance 
       LOVE'S  Spirit  Remains 

You  Like it ,  just  name it.
 Gifts come  without  names 

    by  John Edward Culp 
          December 10, 2016

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