My mother, you taught me to tie laces,
Now I walk on trails from my wildest dreams,
My father, you showed me how to use tools,
I’ve built adventures in nature’s extremes,
My brother, you would once look up to me,
I learn much from principles in your code,
~Teachers of life, unique style and mode~
To my free willed daughter or son, unborn,
Don’t sleep on gifts of guidance, unwrap gold,
Ego is a sedative to learning,
Conforming to base instincts will enslave,
Wisdom is humble, an authentic voice,
Grows sagely in a meditative conclave.
My response to the prompt by dVerse. Today’s poetry form is called a puente, translated to “bridge”, in Spanish.
A puente uses a line with a tilde at either end ~like so~ to bridge the first and third stanzas – which must themselves, have the same number of lines.
The poem I’ve created intends represent the bridge of knowledge transferred between people, through generations, as well as to symbolise the bridge on which knowledge crosses into wisdom.
Original poem by © Darius the Mate
What is life without community? I would love to connect with other nicecissists out there. Reach out, let me know what you think in the comments, and of course, give me a follow for more – nice!
Exploring mental and physical