Or have no proof of
How to handle,
Not only your fingers
May get singed
But your own
Integrity and reliability
May be questioned,
Melted or burnt away
Like a lying, candle.
Similar Posts
The Humming bird,
The size of a flower,With beauty that towers,Wings tiny that sing.It’s made up of colors,Was born to be freeIn perpetual motion,A joy, just to see.
Dearest Poetry,
In this worldOf incessant turmoilYou’re my All.Spread the love,We are supposedTo have,Fill us withThe beauty and the joyComing fromA most transparent region,Far above.
To be a poet
Not be afraid to start,A peaceful RevolutionOf ideas and feelingsThat opens doors,Leaves prejudice apartTries to be a just judge,Of society, a partAnd above all, loveAll moving parts,Of our sometimesPositive,Human evolution.
Magic
Something magic happens,When you write poetically,Doors just seem to open,Spirit, feeling free.Something seems to flower,Inside, poetically,And it makes you happyAnd you are where you have to be.
Such passionate Beauty,
When set into Poems,Goes further than, dare,Beware of this Tempest,That’s written right there,To heights it may take you,Emotions that scare.These words are like magic,A loving fanfare,Of Oceans, Emotions,That go everywhere.Few ever have everAttained such great heights,Some Poems, howeverAre larger than life.
Poets have the right
For a better World,More just, More cheerLess fear,But the problem isThe present PowerThat exists,Would never, everPermit Poets to runThis corrupted Sphere,That they will, eventuallyChoke,And put completely,Out of Gear.