Just hope, sometimes
I get it right.
The pleasure
That good writing gives,
Still holds of love
The true delight.
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In this Life,
So little time,Is anything resolved?No, not by a Rhyme.But at least you’ve tried,To take a step further,Even though, you knowLife and Logic,Never seem to coincideOr go together.
Tired of analysis,
Hope is out the window,Planting, lost its plow,Things just seem to crumble,Nothing stands up straight,Is this just a sample,Of what no longer is great?House in great disorder,Seems to fall apart,As the Country’s engines,Clog and cannot start.Still the Sawdust Sellers,Say that all is fine,It’s only the victims,That always seem to whineBut ‘great deals’, still out therePlanning…
Poems are the cradles of our souls,
They swing us high,But leave us indifferent,Never! Not a try.
We sat in the shadows of the lonely night,
We loved in the shadows of the darkness of night,Till our Souls were one and had taken flight,We visited Heaven, that very night,And loved each other, with all our might,In the celestial passion of the lonely night,And never again was there such a sight,When two Souls went together, from darkness to light
Another World, another place,
Where the heart beats,At happiness rate,And the Sea singsDeep freedom songs,And the Soul knowsIt can’t be wrong.
I am not one to be enamored
Poetically written,But when it happensAnd I’m poetically smittenWith feelings that are written,Forever in my heart,That poem staysAnd each time I read it,In heavenly rapture,My heart sways.A sort of love-story,Like when someone prays.