Romantically,
Love opens flowers,
Silently,
Life is a toss up,
But who are we?
To stop dreaming
When life is still blooming
And spirit and beauty
Are naturally, free.
are
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Poets,
Creators of truth,Seeking Beauty,So fragile, so sweet,So much a part,Of life’s mysterious beat.
Eating Healthy is now the rage,
This is what you’ve got to do,Stop indulging on that plate,Of politically correct, obnoxious stew
The poet sees,
The poet feelsA melody,The music that is in the air,That must become poetry fair.The Dreamer’s song,Near by the sea,Blue sailing movement,Sets it free,A feeling that you don’t forget,Like young first love, you don’t regretThe poet lives only for that,It’s in the blood yet so abstract.A poem is a poet’s song,Fighting for beauty,Right not wrong,All love…
Love in full,
That embracesYour whole heart,Love complete,Can compete,With the heavens,And the stars,Love your face,Love your soul,Inner beauty,Far apart,From the world,From all sinIt was You,From the start,Only You,In my Heart.
To die of Love,
As Romantic Poets thought,Yet, one thing is sure,A broken heart has no cure.
Dreamers can’t be Schemers,
To tarnish them with mud and hate,Or use them as a crutch.