But I say
They are wrong
Love can gift you
A new life
Just choose
A right kind of person
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Oh Lord,
To rise a little a bitYou have me to go too lowTo do things too mean.
Lub dub
Wriggle wiggle wahb wuhbCoccineous heart goes totter totWhen she flashes her smile on me ooh, ahZoom in zoom out she goes flip flopRondo round singing heart atrousTitter tattle neighbor hoodOozing boozingMy moodIn the heartCirculation of my bloodCreeping crawling my love and lustHer eyes hoop hop hair goes hush hashZounds round, ah! Slender hip zigzag cat…
On the street, first is Damini
Anywhere if there is a third oneSea will be never calm as beforeLike angry lions it will howl and roarThe dikes of patience will be brokenWaves over waves of men and womenBurn in flames in anger and threatenTo bring down the governmentIf it fails seriously to take into accountThose men who are responsibleThe earth will…
The Unrealistically Color Blind Gals and Guys
Across the river must be a foolTo say that without imageryNo poem is a poemBut how will I create an imageOf the good will I have in my heartFor you allAnd the best wishes i expressedFor my love just yesterday?The guy over the lineAcross the web must be a crackTo say that without metaphorIn poems…
Serpent the road
The breast of a white dove is the journey of the race of menRiding slowly along the right path as caterpillar’s joy walkSo far so nice so logical so rationalNo fear of any accident no fear of any warThen comes the turn where there is no sun no lightPot holes are not seen poles are…
How much! How long pain!
How much! What you gain!
Beguiled,
Spellbound,
But in a tragic way,
Denied, deprived,
A feeling wild,
Hurts more each passing day,
A feeling so apart,
The thorns that roses,
Hide so well,
May all be there,
To start,
A lifelong voyage,
Into hell,
From where we don’t depart.
Love hurts,
And tears your life apart,
When met with true disdain,
The pain that fills your empty heart,
Can make you go insane.
Love’s pain,
A hurt, with so much strain,
You don’t know where to turn,
As Life recedes,
And Fountains bleed,
A point of no return.
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Depressed?
Just look,Around you,At all the pain,Murders and DeathPolitical disgustPlanted,In the Eagle’s nest,But if you loveAnd have someoneWho loves you,There is nothingYou can’t do,Even having, a nice day,And helping others, too
Sanity!
All seems to crumbleTo be falling apart!What is,Should not beAnd what shouldn’t,Seems sustainedBy strange, almostInhuman noises,Gaining groundStifling,Positive sound.As the waters of sanity,Evaporate and narrow‘Twenty First Century! ‘Are you our nightmareOur worst case scenario?Where all seems futileWhere beauty fumblesMortally wounded,By indifference,And sorrow?Sometimes,I feel as thoughWe’re swimmingIn an Aquarium,Long, dark and narrowWith our humanity wilted,Our brains tiltedAnd…
There is love of beauty,
That baroque does not provoke,As beautiful is the lily,As the towering, stately oak.
I love Idealists,
That still exist,They’re soft and kindAnd bear in mind,Those that have suffered,And that life,Has left behindAnd Those,That for lost Love,Have pined.I wish the worldWere made of such,Poet-IdealistsThat live above,The petty line,And still can findA star to kissAnd a verse,For allTo leave, behind.
Beyond desire,
Every time I see your face,My heart flowers,Red roses bloom in its place,Beyond desire,I know that we were made,Just for each other,In time and space,Just for the moment,Of our first embrace,For the fulfilment,Of Love’s perfect grace.
Wise Men go and come,
Once balanced light,But now, all that is right is night,And we are led by lying SCUM!
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And in outer Space,
All over your body and your face,
Daggers of disillusionment,
Caused by a lost embrace.
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My blood is boiling,
It’s all the same,Tell me in who’s bad name,Do we get the right to kill?Our History of Blood,Going on, going on,Still the same!
Each poet is different
In a rich, consoling wayThat is because poetsAlways have deepAnd personal viewsSomething warm and caring,Interesting to say,God bless poetsSo different fromThe Devil’s politiciansIn every possible way!
Can you think you know someone,
For, you have never met?Can your intuitionFeel the truth about themOr is it just an imaginary guess?These questions are left unansweredFor even though, I think I know you,All I have to go byAre your written words,And words can play games,No one ever imagined,Could be played,Or even heard…..? ? ?
I read her verses
As if She were alive!So touching,Their sincerityAnd beautifulSimplicity,I cried…
There is a certain thrill,
That nothing else can provide,Feeling words that glide,A sort of illumination,Into other regions,HighWith nothing to hide,Sincerity,A sort of exhilaration,That only in Love you’ll find.I can openly tell you,Writing, reading Poetry,Is certainly worthwhile,It’s mostly love,That finds it’s way,Thru spiritual liberty.
The poor Weeping Willow,
Made out of tears,Resembling green rain.
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Not always receiving,
But without it,
Living is not living,
For loving is giving,
The most precious gift,
That you can give,
And the most fulfilling.
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Gone are the caresses
Now I must content myselfWith virtual love,Difficult to doWhen all you’ve ever lived forIs, ‘I love you’.Difficult to face each morning,Without a vital yearningDifficult to faceThat song, without music,When you’re alone.
Love is more than love,
Abnegation, affectionAdoration.Love is alsoA winged feelingOf resurrection,Angelic happiness,Born again,With the deepestFeeling of love’sPerfection.
Tell me how you feel,
The way I feel for you,Every hour, every year,Every minute, thru and thru:Like a cloud that cannot rain,Like an ocean white, not blue,Like a winter on a plain,Like transparency of dew,Like the light that comes and goes,Where it stops, nobody know,Like the wind tied to a tree,A deep pain you cannot see,Tell me this and…
Dreams, Imagination, and other Time wastefuls,
‘We do, because without us,Life can be a very sad and serious bind.’
I know you’re there,
Everywhere,The air I breath,Has life of you,The sky I see,Has tones of you,The sea I miss,Misses you too,Oh how to live,Now, without, You?
She was a visionary,
Of ‘Swing Low, Sweet Chariot’And Canterbury,All the best of theEnglish Language,Judged, necessaryFor she uplifted,Body and Soul,She was alsoBeautiful and smart,And unrelentingly, poeticShe had the heart,The Bohemian part,Of a Forest Fairy.