A poem holds so much,
Says so much
Moves so much
Can teach so much!
That even volumes,
Cannot touch.
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It’s a long life, and a short one,
Time marches on and kills,And We? Dream our immortality,But waste our lives fighting,Over trivialities and stupidities.Our lives are but tiny rivulets,That never really reach the Sea.
Stopped by the pain
The hand stops feeling,But more the heart,Finally wakened, to realizeThat all that matters,Is how you Lie!
I touch you delicately,
Carefully, with amour,As not to blemish the purity of white,I feel your perfect flower,No petals, just a cornucopia of beauty and delight,The shape of a Modigliani ballet dancer,So white, in the blackness of the lonely night.
You’ve got some poetic engine!
And a lot of talent.All that makes,From the startA Poet a Poet.Lucky those that findYour magic words,That can see, appreciateThe beauty of your heart,Your feelings and soul.I know you will go farReaching, for the starsMaking them into versesOf artistic lovelinessAnd spiritual healing,For the pleasure of us all,And a blessing for our hearts.
The breaking point,
The Flight,The Night of Love,When does it happen?How does it happen?No one can really tell,But purple petals dress the air,Into a thornless Rose you stare,The Ocean opens wide its arms,Enfolds you blindly with its charmsYour lightly flying thru the air,You leave the Earth so far, nowhere,You lose your heart and then your mind,And then you…
A broken heart laid on the floor,
Life is too cruel, and people’s core,Is mostly rotten, trust, What for?