Ever, so unkind,
Pathetically!
Man writes his own,
Tragedy,
Not knowing how to control,
His evil sentiments
And Vanity,
Constantly, fooling others,
To satisfy,
His own, Insanity.
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Like a miraculous filter
A poem holds so much,Says so muchMoves so muchCan teach so much!That even volumes,Cannot touch.
Of Love and Life,
And yet,We move ahead,Not forgetting older dreamsAlways hoping, it seems,That something better,Lies Ahead.And yet,Caught in Life’s flow,So many times not knowingWhat you want or where to go.
Pain and injustice, demoralize,
Dictatorship and power, paralyzes,Whatever good, we should become.
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
Not only of Poetry
Most don’t even knowWhat Poetry givesAs far as consolation,To the soul,Most have never evenLooked closelyAt a Rose,Its true color,Its abode,The drops of dew,Silently, humbly,Trembling,Upon, petals sweet,Daylight’s tearsThat compose,All that can marry,Poetry to a Rose.
Deeply, artistical
Living passionsAre the Arts,A fluidity not rationedInstantly,Sets them apart.Life’s adventureAlways differentAs an ever burning hearth,Love, the feeling that inspiresAs the Artist’s inner firesBecome mirrors of his art.