Even what is hidden brew,
In human hieroglyphics,
Or in solidified,
Archeological fossils,
From the Poet, cannot hide,
Not even Love,
World-Wide.
Similar Posts
The immensity of Solitude
Just as Love,Cannot be enough,Treasured.
Writing in the clouds,
Normal, less normal, insane,Some people like to read,The Clouds that Poets write,But living in the Clouds,A danger signal is,For even famous poets,Cannot fully describe,The Mystery that life Is!
The most intimate feelings,
In Poetry,Nothing, should be concealed,The flow must be constant,Clear and grand,Like a bell that has finally,Found its true land,Feelings and words,Then do intertwine,Poetry touches,A cord that’s divine.
It is for those,
And understand,How poetry flowsThat its wordsAre openly, written,For thoseThat thinkWith a loving heart,Because poetic feelingsShouldn’t be hiddenThey must come to lifeAnd be life giving.
At the edge of the precipice
Not knowing how to copeBy sea or by land,Time feels so narrowWithout a helping handLoneliness is sorrowBy sea or by land.What will be tomorrowIf love is not at handWhere can we go,When no one understands?Is there any refugeIs there any handThat will fit into yours,When sailing, walking aloneDrifting thru life’s storm,By sea and by land.
Memories turn into blue shadows,
As time goes by, thoughts entangle and wane,Even Umbrellas stop Singing in the Rain!