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 never too early to start to Fool,
A man. a woman, a flea or a dog,Does it really matter who is the next Rogue?
Come with me,
With Poetry,And you will see,How Fantabulous,It can really be.
The poet paints what he sees,
Are his leads.Of Life and Love,He constantly feels,The mutilations,A sensitive soulThat bleeds verses,Through observation.
There are Loves that you remember,
But nothing is forever,Things, just never seem to stay,Happiness is a feather,So often blown away.
Do not pretend
What you areNot!Sooner or laterThose with crocodileTears, Teeth and Smears,Are discovered,Plotting in theirRot,Believe it or not!
I’ll write up a storm for you,
For with you, the World is ours,And with your love, my dearest love,I know we cannot fail.