Where would
You rather be?
I couldn’t choose
And that is
Why,
It seems to me
I try
To write,
What some
Might call,
A sort of
Poetry…
Always
Floating
Between,
Two Seas.
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Lucky are those fascinated,
Exasperated,For not having enough,Of those moments,Elongated,By wonderful stuff,And creative brothers.Fascinated,By periods and people,High up on the scale,Those that ripple,The exciting Sea of Life,With their creativity,Unfolding secrets,Opening new paths,The artistic mysteries,That fascinate even more,As you keep opening of Life,The Secret Door,The amazing creations,Of which you never tier,But want more and more.
You fill my days,
And when I see you,All is right,There are no fears,There is no fright,There is just Love,With all it’s might,I feel my life return to me,A Love that is like Poetry.
Doing nothing
Like an empty sigh,While Time swallowsMy time,And Poetry, just staresMe in the face,Saying,You’re mine and only Mine!
Life is a Tragedy
And yet, we hold onEver, so sadly.
There,
Where there are no longer tearsTo cry,Where all has given upAnd no longer, do we even try,To save illusions that have diedWhere daffodils have cried,The day they were to bloomAnd roses lost their redVery much, too soonA world where dreams were clipped,Before reaching the moonAnd where the sea, drowned itselfIn an insignificant lagoonThat is how…
Poets are such Fools,
They can change everything,By making,Love and understanding,Universal Rules.