Love does project perfection,
Always natural, never planned.
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Secret notes,
Thoughts,That are yoursAnd yours alone,Personal diary,That each one ownsIntimate worldWhere thoughts are heardMysterious phantoms,That roam,Below the skinThat talk to you,Sometimes,Even controlThe world within,So very intimate,These thoughtsThe feelings broughtThat in us,Almost always win.
Can we really
What deeply insideWe feel?Are words a trueMirrorOf the sentiments,That for usHave the mostDesired, appeal?I still don’t knowIf poetry does it bestOr if there reallyIs no way,That emotionally,And passionately,To its fullestDegree,Love can beExpressed.
In search of Life’s
The poet crossesSo many streamsChases,So many dreamsAnd finallyDisappointed,ClosesThose white pagesNot ever written,Where all MysteriesGather, ShadowsBut noting is trueWith the exceptionThat nothing isWhat it seems.
Sometimes in a poem,
All brainy and confident,Open and adjacent.The clarity and openness,A poem may bring,Is Amazing!In so few words it can be,The most complete and sincerest,Passion and Truth,Of a person’s inner, sensibility.
Poems,
Feelings, thoughtsWorded musicThat no longerCan be keptFrom havingLife.As mush asYou cannot forceThe creationOf poems,You can’t helpThem wanting,To be born,And as heartsBecome,Palpitatingly,Alive!
Poetry,
Flashes of luminosityThat come and go,That won’t let goBeautiful Tragedy!