So much is Fraud,
At all of us, hurled!
Similar Posts
Opinions, feelings,
What makes us live?What makes us still,Keep searching love?Is it that maybeWay withinThere’s still some goodnessThat will win.
What is it about Poetry,
Like Cupid’s Life-Giving arrow,Love turns Poetry into Art
Spending time with Poetry
Opens doors to many floorsOf thinking,And can even, sometimesCalm your inner fears.
Habitual pleasure,
In new words,They’re evocative, provocative,And sometimes even flyLike new found birds.
What is wrong?
Who’s to tell what will ignite,The Senses,Views do change,and times do too,Things accepted,Once taboo,All can change and fall apart,Hard to mend, a broken heart.
I could cry continuously,
And no one would really care,Or be thereTo understand just how it feels.Life sped right thru,I looked for you,I found your trace,Not your embrace,And now too late to look some more,Time’s closed of love, the open door.
And most of the time,
We cry in despair.
A World badly written,
With strife and deceit,
Where just to survive,
Is already a feat
Similar Posts
Without reading and writing,
No Culture, no Art,And no History.
In past dreams,
In the wordsYou once pronounced,I hear you,In the vastness of the Sea,You are all around,I feel youAll is Love,When near you.
We elected our Noose,
And now we’re All Kaput,Like that German marching Boot!
Certain films,
They make me float,In worlds, remoteSo very far awayWhere I can dreamAnd follow streams,Imagination, stealBe happy, sadEven be glad,While knowingNothing’s real.
Nothing in Life is normal,
Nor Love, Nor Dream,Nor Oceans,That in life’s tempest,Scream,So let us not think about Tomorrow,For it is also part of this abnormal scheme,And may also be just a senseless dream.
What are great poems made of?
Belief in more than sorrow,Hope, seeds for a better tomorrow,More Love than hate,Inspiration that cannot wait,Dreams you cannot borrow,And the sweet, melodious chirping,Of a newborn, innocent sparrow.