In its unique, fabulous way
But how it makes you feel
When it has
That incredibly vital,
Falling in love, appeal.
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I love Poetry,
It has of language,Every human mood,And should be by allLoved and understood.
Miami has a pickle smell,
You enter in a restaurant,And eat and eat all that you want.And there is herring too, you know,So white that it resembles snow,‘Light Bagels’ with some cream and lox,That even would please Mr. Fox.Miami how I love your name,I come and go, you are the same,Maybe a new hotel or two,But that won’t change my…
Lunacy loves Company,
We’ve achieved so much, in such short time,Are we now ready to graze?Me thinks, things have gone much too far,We’re Sinners without, Grace,Willfully provoking,Our demise and our disgrace!
We think we’re civilized but we’re Not,
The cloth won’t change what is within,We’re but weak creatures prone to sin.
Can one attain perfection
So full of pain,Injustice, finely blurred,Maybe, maybe not,Depends on the eye, mind, fliesOf the beholder.Creating Art opens doorsThat are boulder,Imagination, Beauty fly,Art is communicative,To the beholderAnd seems to never lie,Authenticity, heart and imagination,Coming close to perfection,If it makes you smile or even cry.
Readers of deep messages,
For they are able to feel and see,What no prose can ever beAnd live in perpetual discovery.