The broken hills,
Of no tomorrow.
Similar Posts
Thru love of Art and Poetry,
Both felt and make the heart beat,And enemies appease.
What the hand can do,
Especially express,With a caress,The tendernessOf Love,Like no words can.
Let’s see,
Or that time, when we first met,As Time stopped, the world did tooAnd existing from that moment,There was you and only you.How you filled my empty life,With the dreams of ‘it’s just right’How I’ve loved you ever since,How you saved me from despair,Knowing, love for life was there.
Poetry is like cooking,
On too high a flame,The contents get burned,They lose their worth,And no one will come,A looking.
If the World were more like Poets,
Because at least in simple verses,We share our melancholy.
Evil does have a Face,
Abused the Human Race,Unfortunately, too numerous to nameBut the Face of Evil, just the same.