Or creations are
Exactly, the same,
That’s what you call
Being original!
And part of
A truly wonderful
And mysteriously,
Unique, game.
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Life,
Prevail.Love,Who can lift your veil?And then,There we are,Poets,Gazing at the StarsWasting TimePutting together idealsAnd Life’s puzzles,With words, feelingsAnd dreams that reel,As if with That,It might be possibleTo make Happiness stream.Finally,For all of us,Things are what they are,And not what they seemNor what we thinkThey should be,We only imagineFelt impressions,Like in a poet’s dream.
Like the breath of day
Want to stay with you,If it has appealHas spoken to your heart,Keep it with you.A friend, a confidant,A friendly handA poem that at moments,May assist you,And at others,Who knows?May even cry,With you.
Poetry,
Melodiously uplifting,With ever-beauty, crowned,So close to the human soul,That looks for You to console,The emptiness of it All.
Beauty’s secret,
Beauty is to be shared,With all those that ever cared,About Life, about Mystery,About Love and its Victory.
Sometimes,
Too much!When intensity’sToo great,You become a poetEven at an early age,To give ventTo all that passionTo content,Life’s deep compassionTo express,And to give birthTo all the love,You cannot ration.
Fill your shoes with garlic,
Maybe you’ll come to your senses,It’s of you, World that I talk.