And Love the best of all, our human throne,
That has you know you’re not ever alone.
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If I had a magic button,
And substitute instead,A Red Rose with a dew-drop tear.
We left no sentiment untouched,
We knew of Love the inner touch,The problem was we loved too much.
The Hand that saves,
For us to chose,It’s called ‘Free Will’
Poetry,
Catapult you to the starsIn long loving summer nights,Have the moonlight softlyKiss you,In a rapture of delight,Cross the oceans,Make the sterile deserts flowerCapture love’s sweet, finest hourMake you feel, so fancy freeAllowing, you to enjoyAll that you are and want to beIndeed a veritable wonderThat can elevate the soulTo regions of unimagined thunder.And yet,Much to…
Strange profession
If you can evenCall it that!For it’s a compulsionFor writing,A magnificent obsession,I suppose,Love must feel like that.
Man is a riddle,
It seems so strange,That those who make War,May sometimes also write, Poetry,Is that ‘Peace in the War’To create some more,‘Sacrificial Lambs? ‘