And go down to the wavy Sea again,
To hear the seagulls cry.
I want to be able to hope again,
To hope before I die,
And think that there’s Love in my soul again,
Before, my last goodbye
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The true artist
More than by rules and constriction,Feelings, Love and InspirationAre the inevitable prescriptionFor a work of art to be outsideConventional, jurisdiction.
Strange,
On the Internet.Who is realAnd who is not?Who is hiding an identityOr some kind of horriblePlot?No its not our imaginationThat carries us awayWhen it comesTo the Shadows of the InternetSherlock Holmes, the famous detectiveWould have had, without a doubtA rather festive, field day,Trying to discover who they wereAnd also many of their plots,As Shadowy shadows…
Can you think you know someone,
For, you have never met?Can your intuitionFeel the truth about themOr is it just an imaginary guess?These questions are left unansweredFor even though, I think I know you,All I have to go byAre your written words,And words can play games,No one ever imagined,Could be played,Or even heard…..? ? ?
The dismembered hands of Time,
They take our lives away,Make us old and feeble, on the wayI hate Time!I don’t know how to keep it,Sweep it or beat it!So I disregard itBut its always there,Counting the minutes,In its lair.
Poetry makes you Free,
No matter how much, Tyrants will cloud,Poetic words will still think out loud.
The long silences of Love
To speak their feelingsOf love tender and so sweet,Eyes that speakTheir own incredible languageThat describes love at its peak.