Sincerity, not spun,
You are the life,
That flows thru my veins,
Poetry is Love,
Love is Poetry,
Stemming from Life’s,
Most inspired tree.
Similar Posts
Where did time go?
No more to and fro,As if we never were,Like a come and go,That finally endsTragically.Gone are the sunsets,That kissed the sea,The love, the light we knew,You and Me.
Embedded in a rock,
May be the secretOf our missing link.
Moods,
They make you sadThey make you mad,But love,You must know by now,Is the deepest of vowsThe very best you have,Or will ever, have had.
A thought, a feel
An artistic vision,Appears,SpontaneousAnd so dearWithout evenKnowing,What conditionsSynapse,What impulsesConnect,Push, extractThe essential essence,That createsThe work of art.
My poetry is made of tears,
They accentuate my lonely fears,But calm, me when you are not near.My tears are mine and mine alone,They’re sadness that no one can own,They’re part of loving you so much,A Love that only tears can touche.
The satisfaction
In writing,A poemCannot be acquiredOr merely desired,It surpassesAll typesOf Emotions,It’s likeBeing born again,From and withLove,Full of devotion.