There’d be a Rhyme in every kitchen,
Love, the favorite recipe.
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To have died
From a distant litanyA persistent, song of songsOf impossibilities!Is like having diedA hundred times over,Each day becomesA hideous burden,Difficult, to get overSolitude, unwanted chambersOf isolated sadness,Repeated over and over againWhere nothing makes any sense,Because all is gone, anywayAs the evening sun slowly sinksInto a sea of desperation,Black waters, asphyxiationWhere all dream have becomeUndone,And Sanity is…
To be a Poet
Gales of emotion,And then you blow it!And people know it.Sensitive to almostEverything,When you’re going to cave,You know it,Exaggerating everything,Thru the colors of feelings,You want to touch Ecstasy,Thru worded rainbows of Fantasy,And you show it,And people know it.Yes, believe it or not,It’s hard,To be a poet.< br>To be a Poet.
Looking for Purity,
For precious light, sereneSo rarely felt or seen,I delve into sweet Poetry,The Arts that have no scheme,I look for Nature’s beauty,The peace that’s born within,And try to hide,From human tide,Where only tempests win.
Who can Decipher
Of anything?Even the word,DecipherHas a desperateRing,Of Nothing,In Everything.
I compose
The things, I feelThe most,Life goes by so fast!And yet,You seem to lastSustaining me,Perhaps knowingIt is you,I love the most.
Some poems tell stories,
And dissipate worries,All that with a rhyme.