I was thinking how life passes,
How each day I miss you more.
Life is not an easy slumber,
Things do often go astray,
We are shaken by black thunder,
When our Love has gone away,
And we know the dying roses,
Won’t be coming back in May.
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Poems are miracles
Like most Art form.I want to believe,We are moreThan just flesh and bone.But when we seeThe AtrocitiesThat some,So blatantly perform,We ask ourselvesIf we even deserveIn this world,To have been born?
Each bird is different,
Different colorsThat enthrall,That is what keeps us,In admirationBeing softly fascinatedDelicately infatuatedAnd loving them All.
Dishonesty today,
We are witnessing today,The guillotining of Truth,Honesty, thrown off the roof,The embezzlement of personal proof,Our accountability,The success of ‘ignorance is bliss’.And Lies are just a snake’s hiss.Is it All worse Now?Or has It always been like this.
Like the tree needs its shadow from the morning sun,
I crave nothing except your loving soul,Without Love we are Nothing,Not a thing at all.
Miami has a pickle smell,
You enter in a restaurant,And eat and eat all that you want.And there is herring too, you know,So white that it resembles snow,‘Light Bagels’ with some cream and lox,That even would please Mr. Fox.Miami how I love your name,I come and go, you are the same,Maybe a new hotel or two,But that won’t change my…
You can’t teach inspiration,
There are certain Mysteries,Whose secrets, no one knows.