There is but feeling and sincerity,
That must flow, so naturally,
So that the work of art or poem,
Can truly Be.
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She was, Was She?
My favorite actress, B.D.,Played all parts with dignity,Was the voice of Humanity,Bette Davis, Immortality,The Queen of Cinematograpy
Where can I go?
The Moon is too far,The Sun is too bright,The Sea is too deep,When Love’s out of sight,To bury the hurt,Of love that has died.
In Poetry or Prose,
That man will ever know,The happiness that’s blessed,Life’s river’s inner flow.
One by One, They’ve gone,
The Ones,I’ve loved the most!And in a forestFull of silent Trees,There I stand,Alone…So very much, aloneThat even the cold rainThat drops,I do not feelAnd I don’t own…How does it feel?This pain that doesn’tStop?This silence,From bottom to top,It’s like groping in theDark,Feeling about blindly,Waiting for the DawnThat never comes,KnowingIn your heartThat life, inevitablyComes apart,When you’re alone.
The blue sea pearls,
I keep them close.Beside me,They are my fears,That no one hears,Now that you’re not,Beside me.The Ocean Blue,Was just like you,Encompassing me,Quietly,My life was full,Happiness, rule,While you were there,Beside me.Now that you’re gone,Blue sea pearls won,And always are,Beside me,The Ocean cries,A heart that dies,For you are notBeside me.
Art must be,
In an almost holy action,Initiating,Profoundly, touching reactionsThat in amorous conjunction,Between feelings and inspirationWill enableThe artist to dream out his work,Giving rebirth to his spiritual beingThru creative feelings and thoughtsThat can neither be forced nor bought,Art, to be shared, with no profit seekingExcept for, the communicative pleasureInvolved,Like cultivating a rose,Just to receive the thrill and pleasureThat…